Chapter 32

A nd just like that, with the creaking of another heavy door opening and closing, it was over.

The hold on my wrist faded. When the blindfold was taken from my eyes, it felt like I'd been roused from a nightmare, mercifully awoken to a darkened antechamber. Not that it was a welcoming space, more stone, a few candelabras. No windows. No spot to sit down, no carpets, just closed doors leading Creators knew where.

But I knew it wasn't a dream. That sick feeling making me shiver was real. The smell clinging to my nostrils wasn't an illusion, and not even the woody scent of incense burning in a clay holder atop a small pedestal by the entrance could mask it.

And as Skrain looked at me over his shoulder, I could see it in his expression, too.

The message had been loud and clear, without a single spoken word.

We knew why no applicant ever returned: a beast from the Hells was guarding the exit.

That also explained why the monk simply proceeded to hang the key from a little hook on the frame of the gate. There was no need to hide it. Nobody would make it out into the desert. Anyone who tried to cross the chamber beyond would find themselves at the mercy of the creature.

The old man stuffed the blindfolds into his pocket and gestured to our muddy boots, then to a large square of cloth by the door. After we had wiped our shoes, leaving streaks of pitch-black dirt smeared along the mat, he held up a hand, signaling us to wait.

His spindly tail dragged along the ground as he approached a door to our right and knocked. A woman with curled horns and sunken cheeks opened. She wore gray robes, too, her resolute footsteps echoing pointedly on the floor as she took Skrain's arm, leading him away, through another door.

Without him, I was lost. My eyes flicked around the room when the man paced in front of me, gesturing again. This time, for me to follow him. My knees wobbled, but I made myself move, holding fast to Skrain's promise.

Come what may, my husband would save me.

The monk guided me through a series of doors and confusing, dim corridors. I tried to memorize the route but soon gave up.

After a few minutes, we entered a bright room. I was blinded, blinking, my eyes slowly adjusting to the light of dozens of candelabras and a metal chandelier above. Intricate tapestries decorated the walls, and my gaze widened as I made sense of the embroidered figures and landscapes.

It was the story of Dax'eia.

The man laid a hand on the small of my back, reaching into his pocket. He took out a sheet of thin, wrinkled paper, splotchy writing in large lettering scrawled onto it. It seemed as ancient as he did, as if it had been folded and unfolded hundreds of times.

In remembrance of Dax'eia and her sacrifice, you shall speak your last words inside this room. For you must know her suffering and embrace her with a true heart.

I sucked on my cheeks as I looked up, studying the tapestries again. My mouth formed a silent O when I realized what was happening.

This was a test.

The tapestries were out of order, and it was my first duty to tell the story as it was meant to be told and put the artwork into the right sequence. Though I didn't believe in this Goddess, I had to make it convincing, had to put aside my own skepticism and make this tall tale sound like fact.

I stood straighter, reassuring myself with a nod. This was a task I could fulfill, and luckily, it didn't involve losing my tongue. Yet.

I strode around the room, inspecting the tapestries closer. They were too large, hung up too high for me to pluck from their nails and rearrange, so I walked to the one depicting the beginning of the story. I pointed at a woman with long copper hair and straight, white horns. She almost seemed to glow, her flowing robes fluttering as she stood amid a handful of Xar'vathi listening to her like eager children.

The old man's stern eyes bore into me like a thousand needles. I cleared my throat. Put on the spot, my voice was all too reluctant to sound, too quiet when it finally rose.

"Once upon a time, Dax'eia visited this realm and walked among the mortals of Xar'vath," I said. "There was no kinder Goddess than her, no humbler Goddess than her. She provided wise guidance to anyone in need, beggar or noble alike, never asking anything in return."

Under the scrutinizing gaze of the monk, I walked across the room to the next tapestry. This one showed the Goddess as she sat atop a small pedestal in a village square, a peaceful crowd assembled around her. It was a calm scene, but in the distance, on the horizon, hung blackened clouds, angry, twisted faces forming in the shadows.

"Dax'eia's following grew quickly," I continued. "She became the most popular deity in all of Xar'vath. Thousands of pilgrims made the journey through the desert to see her and accept her sage words into their heart. She enjoyed spending time with the mortals, far away from the jealous squabbles of the Gods. To her, the Xar'vathi hearts seemed pure, untainted by the other deities' endless lust for power and deceit."

I took a few steps to the side, gesturing toward the next artwork. This one showed the Goddess smiling as she leaned in to kiss a Xar'vathi male. By their side stood a few others, happiness and contentment written in their hearty laughter.

"Dax'eia formed genuine, deep connections with her inner circle of attendants. They became her trusted friends and confidants. She even took one of them as her lover."

I paused, looking at the monk, but his face stayed frozen. All of him did, arms crossed and shoulders slumping. He would have made for a rather scrawny, unimpressive statue, if it wasn't for that aggressive stare.

How could someone be so judgmental, have such suspicion and disapproval radiating from them without speaking?

A tingle of anxiety surged from my belly as I crossed the chamber to reach the next tapestry. Had I already made a mistake?

"Against Dax'eia's wishes, the people of Xar'vath built a site of worship for her," I said, gesturing at a depiction of the Goddess standing on the steps of a massive temple, its golden columns decorated with gems. A kind smile curled her lips as she waved at a sea of cheering devotees, kneeling at her feet.

"But unbeknownst to Dax'eia, her lover had become jealous. Though the Goddess was generous, sharing her wealth with him, he wanted the adoration and riches for himself alone." I crouched to angle my finger at a small detail in the art. A horned male in black robes—her lover—standing off to the side, half hidden behind a pillar, a vicious sneer twisting his handsome features.

I rose and hurried to the next tapestry. The male was in this one, too. He prayed in front of a dark shrine, hands folded and eyes upturned at a tall, hooded figure proffering a knife. Umbral magic swirled around the stranger, the same emanations enveloping the weapon.

"In secret, her lover turned to Venfyr, also known as the traitor. He was a malicious God, worshipped by those seeking personal gain through ruthless acts of betrayal toward friends, family, and loved ones. In exchange for his soul when he died, the traitor bestowed a special weapon upon the mortal male, promising it would strike down Dax'eia in a single blow."

There were only three tapestries left, and next, I picked one with the Goddess weeping over the charred corpse of her beloved. The traitor's dagger was buried in her heart, tears of silver streaming from her eyes. Her friends surrounded her, mouths agape and arms raised in grieving lament.

"But in their arrogance, both the traitor God Venfyr and Dax'eia's mortal companion underestimated her. They mistook her kindness for weakness and her humility for ineptitude," I said. "When her lover attacked, she struck him down with a bolt of crackling magic, burning his body with icy flames and damning his soul to wander, lost forever, unable to cross into the next life. She looked up at her friends, and said …"

I took a deep breath, preparing myself for the grand finale, the Goddess' speech.

"I have treated you as my children," I quoted Dax'eia word for word as it was told in the scripture Skrain had given me. "I guided you, cared for you, walked with you. I have treated you as my equals. And how do you repay me? The Gods are vicious and selfish, and I would have expected nothing else from them.

"But now I know that mortal hearts are worse. Gods don't pretend to be loyal, to care about one another. They don't smile in your face and pierce your back with a blade. There is honesty in their treachery, for they never pretended to love me."

I made for the second to last tapestry, this one far more brutal than the others.

The Goddess had pulled the weapon from her chest. She held it in her hand, face twisting in pain as she drew the blade through her tongue. Shimmering blood stained her gown, pooling on the floor.

"From this day on, she said as she tore the blade from her chest and lifted it to her mouth, you shall be alone. You shall have to find kindness and empathy and wisdom within yourselves, for I will no longer be by your side. Purge the darkness from your souls or be doomed to live in misery, in eternal fear of each other, in fear of betrayal like the one you've shown me. From this day on, I shall not speak again until mortalkind has cleansed itself from evil."

Finally, I walked to the last tapestry. It showed bare worshippers, kneeling in front of a statue, hewn in the likeness of Dax'eia. Whips rested in their hands and streaks of crimson painted their backs.

"Since that day, we strive to purify ourselves," I brought out, making eye contact with the motionless monk. "We separate ourselves from this tainted realm and its people. Through strength of will, through abstinence from this world's pleasures, through pain and sacrifice, we honor her name. We pray for repentance and forgiveness, awaiting the day our Goddess returns and embraces us again."

Breathless from nerves and all the talking, I quirked a brow at the old man. He gawked again. The seconds seemed like hours until his head finally dropped into a curt nod. Without waiting for me, he spun around, gesturing for me to follow him out the door.

Relief rushed through me, and I sprinted after him.

For now, I had passed.