That day, Eli and I left the city through the secret tunnel underneath the temple. The underground city had more secret tunnels and doors than I’d initially thought. There was one that led from the prison blocks to the temple. Eli pushed a large portrait of some famous Sebyan ancestor and we found ourselves in a pitch dark tunnel. He led me from there to the temple then we snuck into the other secret path, and outside the city.

“Nag managed to get you this,” Eli told me after we left. He produced a long golden chain from his pocket.

“That will do, I guess.” I reluctantly took the chain and stuffed it into a bag Eli had provided me with earlier. “I had hoped for something sharp, but gold is gold. It will hurt the banshee.”

“Anything else, your highness?” Eli asked.

“As a matter of a fact, yes,” I replied, ignoring his sarcasm. “How did you end up with these people?”

“Let’s speak as we walk,” Eli said. “Most of the necromancer’s forces are in front of the main gate. We don’t need to worry about any ambush on our way to the dungeons.”

“Except the banshee,” I cut in.

“Except the damn banshee,” Eli agreed.

“What will the Children do about Lemien’s threat?” I asked. I made sure to use the correct word. Eli hated it when I used Sebyan.

“They will fight back,” Eli replied. “Your information was real handy by the way. The Chief found out that some scouts had been bitten by rats. He had to put them down though.”

“They’re only helping Lemien by creating more corpses he can add to his army,” I protested.

“They’re not stupid,” Eli scorned. “They burn their dead. Besides, trying to cure those of unknown diseases will only result in more sick people, and more corpses. The situation can get out of hand real quick.”

“And how will they fight the necromancer?” I asked.

“They fought him before,” Eli said. “But that’s beside the point. They’re providing us with a distraction. We need to get into the tower and find the source of Lemien’s powers.”

“The source of his powers,” I replied, “is inside him.”

“I’m not talking about the Fragment,” Eli retorted. “That bastard won’t die no matter how many arrows the Children have put in him.”

“And you think that’s because he has something hidden in his tower?” I asked.

“That’s the most likely theory we’ve got,” Eli said. “Ngairi says Lemien must have some container to store part of his soul in. Death champions are always like that.”

“Nag sure knows a lot of things,” I said.

“We’ll only know once we get there,” Eli said.

“Right, will you tell me how you ended up here now?” I asked.

Eli gave me a wry smile.

“You know how Raiya let me out to find my own way to Milogac? Well, she had actually set her cat demon after me. She probably didn’t trust I’d keep her secret safe.”

“What secret?” I asked.

“Her location, her name, her looks,” Eli replied. “She probably didn’t want anybody to know where we were after we escaped the Church.”

“Well, the Church found us alright,” I said.

“What?”

“Later,” I cut in. “You tell me first, I’ll tell you my story afterward.”

“Well, that huge cat was after me,” Eli went on. “I noticed him at the last possible moment. I was lucky it was a cat, not some blood thirsty hound. It toyed with me. My legs bled so much that night I almost fainted on many occasions.”

“Sisha can be really vicious,” I commented.

“That’s not all,” Eli said. “It almost ate me on many occasions. It retreated each time though, giving me a head start to run away. I got tired of running, I almost gave up. If it hadn’t been for Ella, I would have. She had been scouting for her people that night when she found me, lying on the withered tree leaves, ready to die.”

“Ella?” I asked.

“One of the Children scouts, an outstanding warrior too,” he replied. “The Children felt the forest cry to them, call for help. She found me and pulled me down the tunnels. For some reason that cat demon didn’t follow us. I was admitted into the city, and asked to tell them of what happened up there.

“They were ready to launch an all-out attack on the tree house. But they had a ritual before going to war. They prayed to their ancestors, and heard their answer. That hadn’t happened in almost a century, they told me.”

We were walking through the dark tunnels by then. I could hear the sound of rippling water getting closer and closer. We were near the area I landed in after I climbed down, out of the necromancer’s reach. Eli had grown silent for a while. When he resumed speaking, his voice was faint, sad.

“They took me for some kind of herald then,” Eli went on. “It’s funny if you think about it, how life can mistreat you one moment, then throw the most unexpected gift at you the next. The Children took me in, fed me and taught me their language.

“They also told me about the Holi Wars, and the Eternal Moon. Then the necromancer attacked, and we heard the commotion above us. Then you showed up, out of nowhere and repelled the necromancer’s army all by yourself.”

“You’ve had a busy couple of weeks too,” I said. “It’s strange how so much can happen in a few days.”

Eli nodded. “What happened up there anyway?”

“I think I have time to tell you about it,” I said. “Are the dungeons still far from here?”

“We’ll have to walk a little bit further, yes,” Eli replied.

I proceeded to tell Eli about what happened that day. As I told my extraordinary tale of survival, and the monsters I witnessed, I wondered if Sam and that hateful Utar survived the explosions that ensued after I escaped through the tunnels…

Citadel, Capital of Auruun. The Great Cathedral of Dhobor.

Sullivan sat in a round table with seven other Pontiffs. He had donned a long ivory robe that swept the floor as he walked. It was the official attire Pontiffs had to wear inside the Cathedral. An urgent meeting was called by the Bishop, the head of the church and the only person admitted into Dhobor’s forbidden realm.

Sullivan’s mind took him back to the forest in Sayang and his fight against his old friend. Other Pontiffs around him were busy discussing the latest news they received regarding the candidates for the upcoming Holi Wars.

“It seems the seven Lords have all granted their gifts this year,” a woman who sat beside Sullivan spoke.

She was addressing him, but the man didn’t reply. His fingers were fidgeting, playing with the cuffs of his robe. There were seven golden threads, expertly sewn around the cuffs. Sullivan ran his fingers up and down, feeling the fine lines that represented his rank.

“Hey, Sullivan!” She waved her hand before his eyes. Sullivan’s eyes seemed to regain focus. He looked at the woman beside him, bewildered.

“What?” he said in a croaked voice.

“Keep worrying like that and you won’t make it to the end of the year,” she said.

She gave him her brightest, most comforting smile. Her curly locks had fallen in front of her right eye. Coupled with her genuine smile and twinkling brown eyes, it was a sight to ease any man’s aching heart. Sullivan’s expression didn’t change though. He was still brooding, crestfallen.

“You haven’t seen what he’s capable of,” Sullivan said. “Utar has disappeared too. I fear Stalwart’s got him, along with our only hope to win this war.”

“Have some faith,” the woman reproached. “What example are you setting for the others? The Bishop’s in there right now. He’ll soon come out, and we shall know the truth.”

“It seems Sullivan’s lost his nerves,” one of the Pontiffs shouted from across the table. Three golden threads showed on his right shoulder, a symbol that represented his rank among other Pontiffs.

“It also seems,” he added, “that he’s lost a battle in angel form.”

The others whispered quite angrily at the mention of Sullivan’s defeat.

“Don’t listen to them,” the woman beside him whispered. “They just want your rank, and your miracles.”

“For all the good it would do against him,” Sullivan replied. It was obvious that he was crestfallen. It took him years to master the angel form miracle, only to be toppled by Stalwart.

The room suddenly grew quiet as the northern gate was opened. A middle-aged man emerged. He was wearing a long navy blue cape on top of the standard ivory robe of the Church. If you happened to cross him in the streets, you wouldn’t think much of him. He was rather short for Auruun standards, almost six feet tall. His stern eyes were probably the only outstanding feature about him.

He looked at everyone in the room, making sure he took in all their faces, before he took a seat at the table.

“Sullivan has fought valiantly against a terrible foe,” he said. “I’ve heard the words of the Lord through his most faithful Listeners. We’re lucky Utar had just brought us a new one. I might think of giving him your position, Baldwin.”

Baldwin was the Pontiff who had just mocked Sullivan for losing his nerves. He opened his mouth to protest but the Bishop cut in, “The Lord doesn’t approve of vanity, nor does He approve of ridiculing others to help your rise in rank. Do that again and I shall send you to Lacralia. They’re in need of preachers for the Lord, I hear.”

Baldwin swallowed his words in a loud gulp. “Apologies Sullivan,” he said. “I didn’t mean to offend you back then.”

“None taken,” Sullivan replied.

The Bishop approved Sully’s reply with a smile.

“Now then,” he said. “The Listeners tell me all seven Primordial Lords have chosen a champion. Some even decided to have candidates fight each other for the position of sole champion. Do you know what that entails?”

The room grew even quieter. One could hear his own heart beat amidst the eerie silence that had just settled. The woman sitting near Sullivan suddenly cleared her throat.

“Yes, Nari?” the Bishop said.

“It means they fear this year’s summoner,” she said. “Your Eminence also said that seven Primordial Lords are taking part in this war. This hasn’t happened in centuries, millennia even.”

“Perceptive and well-read as usual,” the Bishop smiled. “Although Lord Dhobor, praise be upon his name –”

‘Praise be upon his name,’ the other Pontiffs echoed.

“ – despises the Holi Wars,” the Bishop went on, “He informs us that the Church will take part in it as well this year.”

“Does this mean we already have a champion?” Nari asked.

“Yes,” the Bishop replied then turned to Sullivan. “You may have noticed that your Priest has vanished, along with his apprentice.”

“Yes, Your Eminence,” Sullivan said.

“Your Priest’s an ambitious one,” the Bishop said then smiled. “His apprentice, Samuel Avourel, has received the gift of power from Lord Osmen. They’re heading to Mount Condurr as we speak.”

Excited whispers broke the eerie silence that had previously settled in the room.

“However,” the Bishop broke in. “This is not cause for celebration yet. As you may all know, Pontiff Sullivan has brought us the most ominous news we’ve heard in years. Someone as powerful as Theolonius Stalwart cannot, must not, exist.”

The Pontiffs nodded in silence.

“To this end,” the Bishop said. “I will personally seek this wizard and deal with him myself. These are the Lord’s orders. I will also have to seek his family, eradicate it. Pontiff Sullivan will join me in this venture, as well as Pontiff Nari. I leave the Cathedral in your care, Cardinal Edric.”

Cardinal Edric stood up and bowed to the Bishop.

“Very well then,” the Bishop went on. “We cannot allow Stalwart to summon the moon. If he doesn’t, the moon will surely accept a lower sacrifice. We will deal with whoever receives it then. For now, gather all the information you can on other champions. We will win this war and appease our Lord’s worries.”