Bless

*Crunch* *Crunch*

Our footsteps echo upon the arid ground. A red, rusty hue bathes the surrounding rugged landscape. A sheer cliff face on one side and a sharp drop-off into the valley below on the other. The narrow path we traverse winds around the mountain, leading us ever higher toward our destination as the unforgiving sun beats down with its harsh rays.

“Interesting.” Reading his arcane tome as he walks, Caio’s voice is a mutter.

I’ve tried getting him to focus on the narrow, precarious path we walk, but he refuses to cease studying his book. It’s been a couple of weeks since we departed the cottage in that lewd forest, and much to my relief, the journey has been uneventful. Now, ascending this dusty, mountainous terrain on the westernmost region of the continent, I know we are getting close to our objective.

Rounding a final bend, the path shifts up onto the mountain, leading toward a flat expanse and revealing our destination—the town of Vero.

A tall, plain wall of red brick stretches endlessly in either direction, fully surrounding the town. The height of at least three men, it completely blocks any view of the settlement within—save for a single, strange sight. A grand, soaring spire of snow-white stone stretches up toward the sky. Built somewhere deep within the village, it seems to be a tower constructed upon the rooftop of some grand structure. Like an arm desperately reaching for something high above, the building feels almost comically large and out of place in such a rural area. Atop the pinnacle is a statue of an elderly man. Coated in gold, it glimmers in the sun but is too distant for me to get a good view of its features.

“…the fuck is that?” Caio has stopped reading long enough to flash a confused, almost disgusted look at the bizarre sight.

“Let’s get this over with.” I sigh and lead the way up the path toward a large set of wooden gates in the brick wall.

Our footsteps give our presence away as we approach. A narrow slit in the doorway opens, revealing a cautious set of eyes.

“Who are you?” A male voice from within shouts gruffly.

“Emissaries of the Kingdom of Elrus. We seek an audience with The Prophet.” I unsheathe my sword, showing the royal insignia emblazoned upon the hilt.

His eyes narrow as the doors unlock and slowly open.

An unremarkable man, he could be a peasant in any village the world over. Plain clothes and messy hair, the only thing that stands out is his facial expression. A bizarre, forced smile stretches from ear to ear, his yellow teeth glisten with an oily sheen as he begins to speak.

“Today is a holy day—The Prophet is giving a lesson in the temple.” The man motions for us to follow as he leads into the compound.

The buildings are all basic, unattractive, and made from plain red brick—the same as the wall. Walking along the dusty path into the city center, the grand white building reveals itself; the only structure of any interest, this must be the temple.

The pristine, white stone edifice towers into the air. Many times higher than any other building in the village, it is as though all wealth in the settlement has coalesced into this single spot. Ornate carvings and brilliant stained-glass windows adorn the façade. Atop the roof stands a tower that stretches high into the sky, capped by that strange, gold statue. The structure feels like a bizarre combination of both a church and an imperial palace.