Chapter 19
The hefty doors swung outward, a drawn out groan screeched on their ancient hinges. White light encased the entire space before them. Everything was beyond the meaning of pristine and somehow completely different than the outside world eluded.
Tall stained glass windows arched in a row directly ahead, overseeing a stone oval table with a red runner hanging over its edges.
Griselda glanced down at her dress and compared the fabrics.
A gnawing thought drifted to the back of her mind.
Both fabrics were eerily similar. Turning her attention back, she took in the rest of the room as her feet drifted on their own.
The ceiling drifted into its own shadows with its height.
Two intricate marbled stairwells circled on the sides of the room, leading up to large separate metal doors on either side of the stained glass windows.
Carved columns supported the edge of the cascading ceiling and angled over the stairwells with ornate gemstones inlaid along their length.
She’d never been to Silyre before or its cathedral. Yet, somehow it felt as though she’d always been exposed to the gaudiness of its appearance.
Griselda turned to grab Thrasik’s arm, craving the comfort of something she knew and understood after revealing this unnatural room.
Instead, she was met by him looking around in staunch horror.
His eyes were wide and darting. His hands were flexed into dangerous claws.
His throat vibrated and warbled with the threat of his hood displaying.
“What’s wrong?” she whispered, reaching out to touch his elbow.
Thrasik’s face darted toward her, zipping past her ear where his lips kept trying to form words but failed. His entire body was rigid.
Stepping away, Griselda turned to take in the room again.
Nothing was truly out of place aside from how abhorrently bright and clean it was.
It had no chairs, altars, or candles like she thought a cathedral would.
The oval table at the center was covered in small wooden bowls that all appeared to have their own belongings.
Something she swore wasn’t there a moment ago.
Her feet took their own path and guided her up to the table despite Thrasik’s whine behind her. Peering over, she saw each bowl was filled with different berries, fruits, coins, and cleaned bones.
Similar to our altars.
Griselda’s eyebrows knit together. Something wasn’t making sense. Wasn’t quite adding up. After all her years of having to decorate Mistveil’s altar and make herself pretty for the High Priest’s visits, this place sure seemed barren and desolate for the home of such a person.
She ran her hand along the fabric of the table and pulled her lip back in disgust. The fabric had been bone-dry, yet now her hand was soaking wet. And sticky. The problem was that nothing showed on her to indicate a liquid of any sort had been in contact.
A strange shriek squealed above them from the height of the cathedral. Griselda threw her head back, eyes locking onto the highest point of the ceiling. Nothing but shadows stared back. Her face screwed into one of frustration and uncertainty.
Suddenly, both doors along the stair wells slammed shut. Griselda jumped and instinctively tried backing up toward Thrasik.
His claws barely grazed the cusp of her arm as a voice so eldritch and chilling boomed around them.
“Seize the traitor.”
Before she could turn to throw herself against him in hopes of protecting, black armored guards similar to those at the gate tackled Thrasik to the ground.
He writhed, attempting to throw them off to no avail.
These ones were much larger and appeared out of nowhere.
They slammed his arms flat on the marbled floor before putting chained cuffs around his hands and snout.
Thrasik met Griselda’s fearful gaze. His eyes held such a vast array of emotions that, for a split moment, it felt as though her entire world was about to crumble to smithereens before her.
“Put him with the other. After all, look what he’s done to one of my precious worshipers.” The voice stepped closer behind her, a faked pout hanging on the end of the statement.
It was dark, husky, and made her skin crawl. But she knew exactly who it belonged to. As much as she didn’t want to face this man, she knew it was necessary in order to get the answers they needed. Worst of all, she had to fully act the part in order to get him to believe and trust her.
A grizzled hand reached around from behind her head, its index snagging on her chin and turning her toward its owner. Griselda took a deep breath and held it before following its lead and seeing who such a bony hand belonged to.
Standing before her, covered head to toe in a glimmering white and gold robe, was none other than the High Priest himself.
His skin was wrinkled beyond reason. Where his eyes were sat nothing more than dark hollows that traced down to his gaunt cheekbones.
Rumor had it that a dragon of the old ages burned his eyes out for failing to see their existence as one that could co-exist. His wicked crepe lips curled into a devious grin.
“Ah, the scared sheep. The one that hasn’t ever belonged. I’ve long been waiting to speak with you.” Despite not being able to see, he was always able to give perfect descriptions of those before him and could walk, read, and eat without error.
None of it made sense. Griselda averted her gaze, wanting desperately to see how Thrasik was holding up.
The High Priest’s face twisted into a disgruntled snarl as he snapped at the guards behind her. “I said, put him with the other one!”
The sharp tone made her flinch, a brief movement she hoped he hadn’t picked up on, but the slight snicker that lurked on his inhale gave away that he caught it.
The guards shuffled behind her, seemingly struggling with Thrasik’s size despite their own.
At least, that’s how it sounded before she saw them walking toward the left doorway with his glistening oily scales draped limply over their shoulders.
The better half of his tail dragged on the floor, leaving a small trailed indent in the marble flooring.
That doesn’t make sense.
Griselda squinted.
“Now, my abnormal child. Why don’t you tell me what brings you here? Did that horrible monster harm you any?”
The High Priest removed his hand, tucking it into the sleeve of his other arm as they both folded before his body.
Griselda stared at him. After all these years of having to abide by his rules and regulations had left her bitter and hateful toward the false religion he deemed righteous.
“Father, that beast is no more monster than you and I. We simply came here to request advice and guidance on a matter.”
No sooner had the words left her lips than the back of his hand struck her face. Griselda’s eyes bulged with shock as she rubbed her jaw.
“I’m sorry, child. I think I misheard. It almost sounded as though you were teaming up with the enemy. That wouldn’t happen to be the case, now would it?” The High Priest folded his hand before his face as his eyeless gaze washed over his nails.
“I-… No, Father.” The back of Griselda’s neck sparked with a frustration she hadn’t felt in ages.
Pure unbridled hatred.
Her hands balled into fists. It was bad enough she was in the High Priest’s domain, but now she had to watch her own tongue despite the reason for being here?
His other gnarled hand reached out and caressed the scar along her chin. Every fiber of her being wanted to recoil in on itself at his touch.
“That’s right. You wouldn’t dare bring such a foul demon into this sacred temple. Look at that,” he sneered, waving the other hand around the room. “No signs of anything aside from you and I. Now, what is it I can help you with?”
Griselda swallowed hard.
She had never fully seen the High Priest up this close before, and honestly had preferred it that way.
Every other time she’d seen him, he’d worn an extravagant headpiece with a draped veil that covered the grotesque state of his face.
He appeared in this moment to be the exact opposite of everything she’d ever known him to be.
On top of that, an acrid smell wafted from his flesh.
Enough of an offense to make her eyes sting.
“There’s a problem in my village and I was hoping you might have answers. Or at least an idea on what could be happening, Father,” she sniffled, trying not to breathe too deeply but also desperately needing to clear her sinuses from his putrid stench.
“Ah! Let me take a guess. Women from your village have been suddenly going missing?” He placed a finger on his lips as that crooked grin smeared across the gash of his mouth.
“Yes, Father.” Griselda clenched her teeth.
“I see. Well, my daughter, you’ve come to just the place for your answers.
In fact, I can show you what has happened to these women.
I promise you, they’re perfectly safe.” The High Priest pulled away from her and waved his hands around the room while taking a quick spin.
“In fact, you can join them if you so desire.”
A tinge similar to panic jolted through Griselda as the High Priest turned his face to glance over his shoulder, should he have had eyes.
How is he able to see? What does he mean by joining them?
Turning back to face her, the High Priest reached out toward her forehead with the palm of his hand.
“Come, child. Come and rejoice in knowing the beauty of the New Age that will take over this land.” His voice rang high into the rafters of the cathedral.
Griselda wanted to take a step back. To turn around and run back to the outside world. Instead, her body disobeyed her and stepped forward. In fact, her body wasn’t listening to her desire at all and turned fully toward the High Priest.
His fingers wiggled right before his decrepit palm made contact with her forehead. The split moment of contact shot her eyes wide open as the world around her warped and changed into the very epitome of hell.