Page 6 of Hallowed Games

I tuned out the din of the city, the butchers hawking their meat, the screaming of the animals.

Rufus was heading straight for the great Archon’s temple at the north side of the square. I could see it from here, a massive dome that stretched up to the heavens, casting the rest of the city in shadow.

I quickened my pace as he crossed through the gatehouse, an archway carved with stars and a crescent moon, and towers of stone rising high on either side. Inside the gate, the temple’s stark grandeur made my breath catch. It was taller than the city walls, and its central dome looked like the skull of a giant. On the exterior walls, master masons had carved grimacing stone gargoyles. To either side of me, the soil was six feet higher than the path, and crooked tombstones faced the east. If the Archon ever returned to raise the dead from the soil, he’d descend from the skies over the ancient eastern city of Ebeline. The rising dead would see the Archon beaming in glory the moment he returned—a second sun over the sky. Here, centuries of bones lay beneath the soil, each generation of the dead on top of the one before. A sprawling necropolis spread out beneath my feet. In the old days, they said you could learn from the spirits of the dead, that you could become a brilliant painter or poet. All that was forbidden now.

The temple’s towering doors gaped open, and I watched as Rufus disappeared into the shadows inside. I followed, slipping in after him into the cool rotunda. Inside the dome, awe electrified me. I hadn’t been here since I was eighteen, and I’d forgotten its vast size.

I swept my gaze over the vast interior space, one of sleek cream marble and bright light. In the center of the temple stood a circle of blindfolded torchbearers. Their flames cast wavering light over the hundreds of tombstone effigies that spread out across the floor from the center, stone memorials of the Order’s most prominent Luminari. An army of marble lay with their arms crossed over swords, feet stepping on serpents.

But most breathtaking of all, sunlight beamed in through an oculus hundreds of feet above. I couldn’t see what it illuminated because the torchbearers blocked it. But I knew it beamed into a chasm no one was allowed to see. Once a month, blindfolded torchbearers sacrificed a bull over that hole, letting the blood drip down into it.

The Ravens said that if you looked into the hollow, you could see the divine face of the Archon himself—and that was why no one must ever do it. Mortals weren’t meant to see him, and the vision would rob you of your sanity. Only the dead could lay their eyes upon the glory of the Archon.

Lydia also once told me the torchbearers wore blindfolds because they’d been forced to carve out their own eyes, but I’d never known if that was true or one of her gruesome exaggerations. She’d also said that if one of them ever let their torch go out, he’d be tossed into the chasm to starve to death among the dried bull blood. I wouldn’t put it past the Order, really.

I followed Rufus past soaring columns, and my gaze drifted over rows of gargoyles—monstrous dragons with fangs, each being slain by a Luminarus of the Order. In the dancing torchlight, the carvings seemed alive, shifting and snaking over the walls.

I shuddered. But luck was on my side today because the temple seemed fairly empty.

Rufus’s footfalls echoed off the stone as he crossed into the atrium that jutted off the rotunda. I followed after him, slowing my gait a little so I looked relaxed, aimless.

When I reached the atrium, my heart skipped a beat at the sight of not one but two Ravens. Cloaked in black, they stood by a wall of flickering candles. Shadows writhed over an image of the sun, the symbol of the Archon himself.

Rufus cleared his throat, and the sound echoed off the rib-vaulted ceiling.

I kept my face hidden as I wandered over to the candles and picked up a taper. From the corner of my eye, I watched as one of the Ravens acknowledged Rufus with a nod. Together, the two of them walked with Rufus to the wooden stalls on the other wall. The whispering chambers were Merthyn’s central hub of betrayal.

I lit a candle in service of the Archon.

What I needed to do now—my mission—was to cross to the whispering chambers and listen in. But the second Raven was a problem. Morally, I had no qualms about killing Ravens, but three dead bodies in the atrium was risky…and messy.

I glanced at him, catching his eye for just a moment. Tingles danced up the nape of my neck. Had I seen his face somewhere before? Candlelight sculpted his high cheekbones and flickered in his piercing blue eyes. His sweep of dark hair contrasted sharply with his pale skin. There was something otherworldly about his penetrating gaze, almost heavenly.

And when I glanced down at his chest, my heart nearly stopped. He wore a silver Raven pendant around a chain. He was no ordinary cleric. Standing before me was the bloody Raven Lord himself. No wonder I could practically taste his dark power on my tongue.

I slowed my breathing, mastering control over myself.

I lit another candle, racing through the options in my mind. A dagger out here would be too messy.

I could kill him with a simple stroke of my fingers, just like the Baron wanted. Watching the Raven Lord spasming to death on the marble floor was a temptation I almost couldn’t resist. That lovely pale skin…

How would he react to it at first? Like me, the Ravens were forbidden from touching anyone—a sacrifice to the Archon. Did the Raven Lord crave human contact, too? Of course, the pleasure wouldn’t last long for him.

This was the Serpent speaking in my thoughts. Once, the Serpent’s voice terrified me, but now, he was like an old friend. And it scared me how much I wanted to listen to him.

But it was a bad idea because I didn’t want to send the Order on high alert. After the magical death of their Raven Lord, they’d start to purge the city, killing relentlessly. Slaughtering children in their beds. Better to make all this look like an ordinary murder.

When I chanced another glance at the lord, I found him still looking at me, pale eyes burning, like he was peering into my very soul and examining each one of my dark secrets. My breath left my lungs.

At last, he turned smoothly and stalked out of the hall. His graceful movements reminded me so much of a predatory animal. He pushed through a wooden door. Sunlight streamed into the atrium as he crossed outside, and then the door closed again with an echoing boom. I let out a long, slow breath as my heart rate slowed. Thank the Archon.

I scanned my surroundings, relieved to find that no one else had crossed into the atrium. This was my chance.

Under my cloak, I pulled a dagger from the scabbard.

Silently, I crossed the stone floor toward the whispering chambers. I leaned in close and tuned in to hear what they were saying.

The Raven was speaking, I thought. He had the clipped accent of nobility.

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