Here's the chapter, super late sorry about that (but it's still Wednesday!) It's fully edited and a fairly long one too. Fridays chapter might be late, my house is getting sprayed because we have carpenter ants (had them last year too but apparently the poison didn't kill them for an entire year so yay for warranties).

I'm also looking for a job. When I get one my writing rate will probably reduce to twice a week. The good news is no matter what I'm going to keep writing till the end of the year. You can always expect 1 chapter a week from me from now till December 31'st.

Once the new year has come I'll start editing my other story which already has over 100k words and will have over 200k by next year. I'll be editing that story and starting to post it on here. The quality will be much better and it'll have a story where I already know what I want to happen (where compared to this story I'm literally writing chapter by chapter and only have a few plot ideas ahead of time).

WARNING: This chapter is explicit and even made me feel really bad when writing. I was disgusted with myself for a while, mature audiences only.

Please give any criticism or any spelling/grammatical errors in the comments.

She was all alone inside the room. Outside there were two guards at the door. They were nice enough to her, they didn’t jostle her or bruise her in any way when taking her away from the inn. In fact they had a very nice carriage and several chilled drinks for her to choose from.

Lord Noel Saer was a pleasant enough man. He had a sense of refinement around him that commoners, the other soldiers, and Captain Dannet didn’t have.

“What shall I call you lady?” He had asked her.

“I’ve just taken the name Lady my lord.” she said indifferently. She wasn’t happy about being taken away from the inn, she was having a good time interacting with the people and they had taken her away from it all.

This of course was a new situation as well but she didn’t care much for religion. She had seen no gods and if they did exist they weren’t benevolent and caring. She was Death, but her many millennia had shown her that morality had nothing to do with religion. Evil and good people equally claimed religious reasons for their actions. Screw the gods.

They had taken her to the church which Jourdain had described. The white stone walls of the church separated itself from the rest of the buildings much like the walls of the castle and surrounding city.

The church was built within the poorer district of the city. She had seen that the populace wasn’t all cheery, with it’s people being completely taken care of, but there had been no society where she hadn’t seen poverty.

The trip to the church was smooth and without any trouble. When she had entered the city with Dannet’s unit the commoners had bustled along, ignoring the scouts and soldiers with their weapons sheathed at their side. But Saer’s carriage seemed to command respect and the people made way for the horses.

There was a look of reverence on the faces of the people as they passed. The poor obviously had good feeling about the church and what they did for the populace.

She was concerned with the fact that they had taken her without warning or cause. She was wondering why they had taken her, but it was interesting. She couldn’t help but feel excited at the unknown, it was an adventure to her and it was all she was seeking now. A new adventure.

Arriving at the church she was escorted through a series of hallways which were all well adorned and cleaned to perfection, there wasn’t a speck of dust in sight. Lord Saer kept conversation with her until they reached a large room where she was to wait for the high priest of the church.

“At Lightcross we worship Cylios the God of light and charity. We do all of our good work here in his name, giving to those who need it, and keeping the darkness from our home,” said Lord Saer.

“And why have you brought me here?” She asked.

“I just have my orders Lady, the high priest has asked me to bring you here and so I have.” After that they exchanged a few more pleasantries at which point he left her to rest in a large room.

While she waited for the high priest to arrive she looked around the room in disinterest while feeling the lifeforms of all the humans inside the church. She felt something somewhat different than she had felt before. There was a pain deep within the city that she hadn’t felt before.

There was something that was blocking the range of her senses but now she was so close to it that she couldn’t help but feel it. Was it the God of this church; Cylios? Was he the source of the obstruction causing her to not notice the pain that she was now feeling? She tried to locate the source of it, the origin of the pain that was surrounding her now.

It was hard to find, there was a constant pressure against her powers that was all around pushing against her.

Finally she felt where it came from, and it was right below her. Two hundred feet below her she felt the suffering and pain of others, it was a feeling of destitution, hopelessness, and fear.

She frowned at the fact but she noticed that there was a presence coming and the door opened. The man who entered was a frail looking man in his elder years. He acted as how he looked but she could feel the strength within him. He was acting for her benefit, probably doing it for the others as well.

“My dear, welcome to the church of Cylios, I bless you and thank you for coming to visit us today,” said the man who she assumed was the high priest.

He was dressed in a brilliant white robe with several types of gems studded inside of it with gold and silver thread embroidered in several different symbols and patterns throughout it. He had a small gold circlet upon his head, it was plain in look but there were symbols etched in it, the same as the clothing that he wore.

“This humble man is called Bertelemi, I am the High Priest of this church. I had asked Lord Saer what you were to be called but he said you called yourself Lady. May this old man learn your name?” He continued.

“Thank you for the invitation Bertelemi, I have many names though I haven’t decided which one is best for me yet. The name that your people call me does not fit so Lady will do for now,” she replied.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand my Lady but perhaps you could explain to me. Perhaps you telling me where do you come from would help? Are you from far away? Perhaps across the sea?” He asked.

Death was unsure what to answer him, “Why all these questions, Bertelemi the High Priest? I’ve just arrived not even a day yet you’ve pulled me from my inn, it makes one suspicious.”

Bertelemi just smiled at her, “I was sent here at the request of our God Cylios of course. He commanded me to ask you here and bring you to him.”

She couldn’t help but feel that there was something amiss, and she didn’t like that he kept referring Cylios as “our God”. “And what does Cylios want of me?”

He ignored her question, “Why don’t you just follow me Lady, the lord has just told me that he would like to meet you”. He started towards the door and motioned for her to follow him. Outside there were several guards in different attire than the ones that had brought her to the church. The previous ones must have been soldiers under Lord Saer’s command while these ones were soldiers of the church. They were plainly dressed in brown woolen robes and had tattoos of symbols covering their arms and shaved heads.

The symbols varied from person to person but they all had a similar theme, they were all black in colour and had a rough look to them, much like they were painted sloppily onto the skin. As they walked deeper and deeper within the church she could more easily feel the pain and suffering of those below.

The deeper they moved the more clothing that the guards removed as they walked, haphazardly removing the clothing as if it was too hot and nobody was around. She could see more and more tattoos on the church guards, they completely covered their bodies and the symbols were larger and more menacing.

There was a symbol which was on all of them that she had seen in the front of the high priest's crown. It wasn’t obvious when one looked at it, in fact it was different from the other ones but the shape was unmistakable. It was an eye covered in flame with a broken hand reaching for it.

On the high priest it was neat and organized but small. She realized that it was hidden under various other symbols which adorned his crown. On the church guards it was in the very centre of their chests and back in rough, jagged lines.

They walked in front and behind her, their eyes ever forward not even looking at her. “Why are they taking off their clothes?” She asked.

The high priest continued to walk forward but didn’t ignore her, “They’re showing their true faith to our God Cylios. When we’re closer to God we’re truer to ourselves. We hide his image in plain sight so he might see our deception and be proud.”

“Why would he be proud of deception? Isn’t he a God of light and charity?” She asked.

“You will see,” he replied cryptically.

They followed down countless stairs and passageways. There were several hidden doors and rooms they went in to and went further down the path. Down there the air was hot and humid, and the stench was rancid.

There were the occasional screams and pleads for mercy, sobbings which could be heard down dark passageways that they had passed.

“A church of deception hiding under the guise of light it seems,” she said aloud to the high priest.

“Yes, you’re right,” he replied. “Cylios only asks that we be true to ourselves and him when we are closest to him. Up ahead he will receive you. Cylios is not a God of light and charity but instead deception and torture. We who follow him lie and cheat those who are too stupid to know better for themselves.”

Her mind was racing. Why had they brought her here? Clearly Cylios was powerful, he could block her powers, deny her the ability to sense the lifeforce of others when she wasn’t paying attention. He was able to discern that she was something special, though she didn’t know if he knew what she was.

They reached a large room with hundreds of cages of various sizes, shapes, and builds. Some were the size where a man could fit comfortably when standing but too thin for him to sit. Others were large enough to handle a grown man and looked comfortable enough, except on one side it was too small to lay down until they went into the larger part there were spikes on the floor, not allowing them to lay down unless they wanted to pierce their skin.

The cages were dirty in colour, red and brown from fresh and dried blood and dirt. They were rusty in places but the bars were thick and strong none the less.

Inside the abundance of cages there were people of all ages and genders. She saw an old man with no teeth, nearly too thin to be alive, not much more than bones. A woman whose eyes looked as if they had no life left in them, just staring forwards at nothing.

They took her to a cage, the high priest had told her that in order for her to meet Cylios she would have to wait for a ritual to be completed. They locked her inside and she had to admit it was one of the nicer ones. There were no spikes for torture that lined the walls nor was it too small for her to sit or sleep. It was tall enough for her to just barely stretch and reach the top bars.

Inside with her was a young girl, all alone and with scared eyes. Looking at her Death thought she must have been here for a while because of the pale white skin she had, scarred with fresh and old wounds. “How old are you girl?” She asked.

The girl looked at her as scared as before. She clearly had been in here long enough to understand that terrible things happened in this place. The stench of rotten flesh and excrement was pungent in the air. The girl shivered when she looked at her.

“I’ll not harm you,” she said to the girl, trying to calm her down.

The girl looked wildly at her but finally her little mouth opened, she was obviously weak, her lips chapped. Her voice cracked as she spoke, hardly louder than a whisper, but the most she could muster, “I’m eight miss.”

Death could hardly believe it but focused on looking at the life force of the child. She was so small but yet undernourished. She had clearly had been here for a long time, hardly bigger than a five year old yet left in such a rotten condition. She was clearly not going to live much longer, she was dehydrated and emaciated.

“What’s your name?” She asked the girl, feeling sorry for her state, but knowing that she was going to die soon. Death would take her life force before she would suffer anymore.

“Sana, miss,” she said faintly.

“Sana, what a pretty name for a pretty girl. Sana, would you like to get out of this place?” She asked her.

Sana looked hopeful for a moment but it died down quickly, “There’s no way out of here miss,” she said sadly.

She was unperturbed by the girls answer, she knew that the girl was going to die within a few hours and she wouldn’t be able to spare the girl the scars and memories of this place. It was going to be a mercy to kill her.

The first time she killed here was the wolves, which she later learned were called grave fangs. The following weeks of travel she simply avoided all creatures and when they were getting too close because they felt like she was prey, she simply scared them off. Now the second time she would kill was because it was mercy.

“I can take you away from this place, I can take away your pain and suffering if you want me to,” she said to Sana.

Sana looked back at her, deeply into her eyes. Death didn’t know what the girl was feeling, though she was interacting with her Sana stayed far away at the other side of the cage. Finally, Sana acceded to her offer, “Be free child, let your life go to the centre and spread out once again, and may your new life be good,” said Death.

She touched Sana in the arm and the life was taken away, she looked towards the lifeforce of the child and did what she always did with the dead, she pushed it towards what she felt was the centre, and it was gone.

Several hours later she was taken from the cage by the high priest and several of the naked church guards. The high priest no longer wore his white robe with gold and silver threading, but instead he too was naked, with the symbols of his God on his chest. None of her captors took a second look at the lifeless body of Sana on the floor of her cage.

They took her past several open and visible torture rooms where men, women, and children were being scarred and broken. Pain visible on most faces, some cracked from being so dry that not even tears could form anymore.

The church guards and other priests looked at the victims with relish upon their faces as they continued their torture, the screams and cries of their victims resounding in her ears.

They finally reached a small vestibule where there were several circular braziers burning around the room and into a further passage. There were eight priests there, standing naked with the same tattoos covering their bodies, some red, some blue, and some black. The men faced the high priest as they chanted mystical words which she didn’t know their meaning.

“You will go ahead Lady. The faithful have summoned Cylios the Despoiler. He awaits you,” said the high priest, quietly for once. His face no longer smiling but instead serious and hard looking.

“Should I refuse?” She asked him as she looked into his eyes curiously.

“You’ve put on a brave face for a woman, hardly more than a girl. Should you refuse Cylios has given permission that you be caged, chained and flayed. You shall not refuse him a second time,” he replied harshly, as if unable to believe that anyone would deny his God what he wanted.

She just nodded and smiled slightly to herself and thinking, Once in defence, a second for mercy, a third time for justice. Today a God will fall.