What shocked Sarah the most about the shantytown was just how many souls lived there. There was a strange energy to the place. Something about it made her feel nauseous, and it wasn’t just the poverty and squalor on display. She saw countless numbers of people, mostly orcs, but also a sizable number of humans and dwarves sitting listlessly outside the ramshackle buildings that were built right up to the edge on both sides of the road. The inhabitants were emaciated and were clad in little more than rags. Many were clustered around men wearing black robes who delivered fiery sermons heralding the arrival of a new god.

Those who were waiting for admittance into the city kept a tight grip on their possessions as they waited in the slow moving queue. Despite their vigilance, many of the wagon drivers were powerless to oppose the organized gangs of mostly orcish children who worked together to pick the wagons of lone drivers clean. Unfortunately for them, most of the wagons in the queue were empty, on their return journeys having delivered the bounty from the orcs’ former homeland into Mithia.

“How long can they keep living like this?” Sarah asked worriedly, stunned by the poverty on display.

“It makes me feel like I had a fortunate upbringing,” John remarked as they trudged past a line of orc children sitting along the road with bowls in front of them. They looked up hopefully at the passing travellers, many of whom did not acknowledge their existence.

“There must be thousands of them here,” Sarah breathed.

“Their numbers are already beyond the City Guard’s ability to handle,” a nearby traveller groused, “there was a riot just the other day and the Guard had to beat a hasty retreat, bloodied, and bruised. They haven’t been seen outside the walls since.”

“This place is like a powder keg waiting to go off,” another agreed.

Grimald pulled the others off the road and found a quiet corner near a pool of filthy looking water, that judging from the stench, was the neighbourhood latrine.

“We should go poke around this place before going into the city,” he said.

“Excuse me?” John demanded as he looked over at the city walls up ahead.

“Remember what we’re here to do,” Grimald said, “there are people openly spreading the word of Ratri not twenty feet away from us. Besides, it’s going to be difficult for us to get Udoriol and Sarah through the front door.”

“These priests are probably in the city as well,” John pointed out, “perhaps we should split up and investigate. You and the elf can poke around out here if you like, I can sneak Sarah in, and we can investigate the city.”

Grimald shook his head. “We need to stick together. Look around. Violence could break out in an instant.”

“And if it does, I’d rather be inside than outside,” John said evenly.

“This isn’t up for debate,” Grimald stated flatly, “we’re exploring this shantytown.”

“Fine,” John sighed and Grimald relaxed his grip on his axe.

“Where do we start?” Sarah asked as she covered her nose and mouth with her cloak.

“I’d say we listen in on one of the sermons,” Grimald replied, “perhaps ask the priests some questions.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Udoriol said as he eyed one of them. He was clad in a tattered black cloak and speaking before a huddled crowd of orcs and humans who seemed to be hanging onto his every word. He clutched an ebony staff that had a crescent moon carved on one end and punctuated his sentences by slamming it into the ground.

“Ah, what a diverse group of newcomers!” the priest said as they approached the fringes of his congregation, “tell me, have you embraced the Night Goddess as your God and Saviour?”

Sarah winced as she felt dozens of eyes on them.

“No,” Grimald replied, “not yet, but we are curious to learn.”

A sickly sweet smile spread across the pale man’s face. “Excellent, excellent, the Night Goddess welcomes all with open arms!”

His eyes lit up when he saw Udoriol and turned back to his flock. “Please, give me a moment in private with our new brothers and sisters.”

The congregation bowed their heads and dispersed quickly, giving them a little pocket of privacy in the crowded shantytown.

“An elf,” the priest said, looking at Udoriol, “you must be the infamous Udoriol the Excommunicated the Church is looking for.”

Sarah froze and saw John go for his short sword.

“I’m afraid you have the wrong man,” Grimald said, emphasizing the word.

“Fear not,” the priest said as a sickeningly sweet smile crossed his shockingly pale face, “I have no desire to sell you out to the Church. An enemy of Treto is surely a friend of Ratri.”

Udoriol looked at the man cautiously, “What would you want with this Udoriol?”

“Well,” the priest began, “as you can see, we have many converts of all races except…”

“Elves,” Udoriol finished the sentence for him.

The priest nodded and lidded his eyes. “Your kind’s devotion to Varuna is to be commended. If we could convert one of you to spread the word… perhaps we could make better headway. Yours are such an insular people.”

“I’d be happy to listen to more about your religion,” Udoriol said, “but I have been cast out by my kind for worshipping Treto.”

The priest nodded with understanding. “So, you have no place to call your own. Fear not, as I said, the Night Goddess welcomes all.”

He paused and looked at the others. “There,” he said, smiling sheepishly, “I say that, but I have spoken only to the elf. My apologies… and I haven’t even introduced myself. Where are my manners?”

“I am Brother Gorwyn,” he continued, “the Night Goddess has seen it fit for me to take six of the nine vows, making me fairly senior within Her clergy.”

The others introduced themselves until it was Udoriol’s turn, who merely smiled politely.

“Come,” Gorwyn said, “I can introduce you to our elders.”

“Lead the way,” Grimald smiled.

People made way and bowed their heads when they saw Gorwyn as he led them down the mazy, crowded streets, deeper into the shantytown.

“Is this why you brought me along?” Udoriol asked Grimald softly as they hurried after the black robed priest, “because you knew they would react this way?”

“I didn’t know, personally,” Grimald admitted, “but our employer probably did.”

“I would quite like to meet him when all this is over,” Udoriol remarked, “he sounds like quite the interesting fellow.”

“That’s one way of putting it,” John muttered.

Sarah looked around worriedly as they plunged deeper into the slum. “I don’t know how we’ll find our way out if we lose sight of him.”

“Then we’d better not lose sight of him,” John replied.

“What if things go wrong?” she asked worriedly as she felt the curious gaze of the orcs around her.

“Aye, it’s a gamble, lassie,” Grimald admitted, “but keep your cool. If we play our cards right, this job could soon be over and the two of you will be rich enough to retire.”

“But not you?” John asked.

Despite their situation, the dwarf managed a smile. “No, we dwarves are cursed with long lives and hearty appetites. We slow down when we’re around three hundred and fifty but can live to five hundred if we play our cards right.”

“That’s a long retirement to save for,” Sarah remarked.

“That’s putting it lightly,” Grimald laughed, “so you can see why we’re keen to earn as much as we can while we are still able.”

“It heartens me to see all in such high spirits,” Gorwyn called over his shoulder.

“There have been reports of missing people in the city,” Grimald remarked, trying to sound conversational, “have you heard anything about it?”

Gorwyn spread his arms out to the masses around them, “as you can see, it is not only orc refugees who are here. Many humans and dwarves have abandoned the city so that they can worship the Night Goddess openly.”

“I see.”

“Ah,” Gorwyn smiled, “we have arrived.”

In front of them, seemingly sprouting out from amongst the lean-tos, was a building in the shape of a low stone cylinder topped by a domed roof. The cylinder was roughly twenty feet in diameter and seemed to be made from a solid slab of obsidian that was as black as night and seemed to absorb all light around it. The sight of it filled Sarah with dread.

“This temple appeared here one day,” Gorwyn smiled, “and heralded the resurgence of our faith. It is one of our holiest sites.”

A small platform had been erected in front of the building and on it stood a black cloaked priest. His hood had been thrown back revealing a ghostly pale head and Sarah could not tell if it was his natural skin tone or if he was wearing makeup or had some form of skin tattoo. However, what Sarah found really striking were his eyes. They were red-rimmed and sunken back into their sockets, making it look like he had no eyes at all when he turned his head away.

The priest held up a crystal the size of a pebble to the crowd that was clustered around the platform. It shimmered brilliant purple. Upon seeing it, they fell to their knees and began chanting, “Mistress of the Night, lend us thy power.”

Sarah looked at the crystal and her nausea intensified. “What is that?” she gasped.

“A tear of night,” Gorwyn said excitedly, “it is a manifestation of the Night Goddess’ power.”

Sarah’s eyes widened as the priest clenched his fist around the pebble. His eyes turned solid black. He cast off his black robe revealing an emaciated body beneath. He then nodded at a group of robed priests standing nearby. To her surprise, they raised their bows and fired at the bare-chested priest. They were standing less than ten yards away and all the arrows struck their target. The crowd cheered as the arrows glanced off his body as though he was clad in steel.

“I’ve seen better at the circus,” Grimald muttered under his breath.

The scrawny priest then hopped off the platform and with little effort, picked a boulder the size of a large wagon up.

“Have you seen that at the circus?” John breathed. When Grimald shook his head, the young man turned to Udoriol, “Could someone do that with any of your blessings?”

“No,” Udoriol muttered, “there’s something not right about that crystal he was holding.”

“You felt it too?” Sarah asked.

The elf nodded and they watched in amazement as the priest ground the boulder to dust with his bare hands. The gathered worshippers prostrated themselves before the priest and cried, “Glory to the Night Goddess!”

With the show over, the priest put his cloak back on and Sarah felt a chill run down her spine as he set his eyes on each of them in turn before looking to Gorwyn.

“You are bringing an elf to see the Mistress?” the priest’s voice was silent and toneless, and Sarah wasn’t sure if he had actually spoken or if she had merely him speaking.

Gorwyn nodded and the priest made the subtlest of gestures. Sarah stared after him as he walked towards a nearby shack. There was something strange about the way he moved. It was almost as though his feet didn’t touch the ground as he walked.

“The Mistress is inside,” Gorwyn said, almost sounding giddy with excitement, as he looked at Udoriol, “she will decide how to properly introduce you to our faith. I expect that she’ll be as excited to meet you as I am.”

The elf smiled weakly. “Please, lead the way.”

“I have brought new believers to see the Mistress,” Gorwyn called out to a pair of priests who were watching over the crowd.

One of them turned his head to see them and Sarah felt goosebumps pop up all over her body. He was deathly pale, like the other priests, and his eyes were red rimmed and sunken into their sockets.

His eyes widened imperceptibly when he saw Udoriol. “An elf? The Mistress would indeed be interested in speaking with him. She is resting down below.”

The worshippers made way as Gorwyn practically skipped towards the temple. A pair of burly men clad in black armour stood aside to permit him admission. Their faces could not be seen from behind the lowered visors of their black helmets, but Sarah could feel their eyes on her. She walked past them quickly and into the temple where it was pitch black. Panic seized her. It was so black inside that she couldn’t even make out the outline of John, who had been walking right in front of her.

“One moment please,” Gorwyn’s voice was muted, seemingly swallowed by the darkness, making it difficult to pinpoint where he was.

Seconds later, a flame flared into life, which Gorwyn then placed inside a lantern. “I apologize for the delay,” he said, “unfortunately, I have not yet taken the seventh vow, so I am unable to see in the dark.”

There was a twinge of envy in his voice as he added, “Unlike Brother Nicholas outside.”

The walls, floor and ceiling were made from the same completely black material as outside. The blackness swallowed the feeble light from the candle, making it seem like they were in an infinitely large expanse.

“Welcome to the Chamber of Night,” he said, “we meditate here so that we may feel closer to our Goddess.”

“Please follow me closely,” he added after a short pause.

Sarah felt faintly nauseous as she looked down. The black made it feel like she would fall into an infinite void with every step she took. Up ahead, Gorwyn seemed to melt into the ground as he descended a staircase that had been hidden from view by a wall made from the same material as the rest of the strange chamber.

As they descended the stairs, the strange black material gave way to stone bricks. A familiar stench assaulted their nostrils, but it was a welcome respite from the nothingness up above.

“This temple was created on top of the main sewer line that takes waste from the city into the river,” Gorwyn said, “it demonstrates Night Goddess’ foresight as it makes it easy for our brothers to go into the city and spread the word.”

“Why build a sewer all the way over here?” John asked.

“Because the nobles of this city think they’re too good to smell their own shit,” Grimald snapped.

John was taken aback by the dwarf’s shortness. It seemed even he was unnerved by their surroundings.

Gorwyn paused and eyed the dwarf. “Quite,” he allowed at length.

The stairs led them to a raised passageway that ran along a stream of human excrement. The stench was enough to cause her eyes to water, but she welcomed the familiarity of it. She found herself fervently hoping that they wouldn’t have to go through that strange chamber when they left.

“Pardon the smell,” Gorwyn said apologetically as he led them down the passageway, “the other faiths are hateful of our recent success, and force us to hide in the shadows, but soon, very soon, we will be able to preach openly.”

“Is your Mistress the one in charge here?” Grimald ventured as they walked upstream.

“She is in charge of our flock,” Gorwyn replied, “the leaders are…”

His voice trailed off and he shook his head. “No, that’s not important now. You’ll learn about that in due time.”

Soon, he came to a halt and turned to face a section of wall. He pulled a shimmering crystal out of his pocket which was significantly smaller than the one used by the other priest.

“Only those who have taken their fifth vows are entrusted with a Tear of Night,” Gorwyn said proudly as he held it up to the wall.

A section of the wall recessed before sliding to the side to reveal a dark passageway. To Sarah’s relief, this passageway, though dark, was made from bricks that didn’t seem to suck all the light from Gorwyn’s flame.

“Mind your footing,” the priest warned as he led them inside.

Sarah was the last one in, and the wall slid back into place behind her. “Great, now we’re trapped,” she thought to herself.

“Please don’t be alarmed,” the priest said as he led them into a chamber.

He blew out his lantern plunging them into darkness. “We’ve led into a trap!” Sarah thought to herself.

The priest muttered a foul sounding incantation, and moments later, purple lights winked into existence around them illuminating the large circular stone chamber. In the middle of the chamber was a stone sarcophagus.

“Mistress, I have brought newcomers to our faith who I believe will interest you,” Gorwyn said to the sarcophagus.

“Your Mistress is a vampire?” Udoriol asked with a hint of panic in his voice.

“Don’t worry, she will not feed on those who worship the Night Goddess,” Gorwyn said, smiling sweetly, “at least not against their will…”

“No, that’s…” Udoriol began. He was cut short as the sound of stone scraping stone echoed through the chamber.

Sarah looked at the sarcophagus and the hairs on her neck stood on end as the lid slid open.