Kakuro despised the tunnels that ran underneath the city. He quite liked the world outside: the bright, azure sky, feeling that warm but humid sea breeze, watching the ripples the salty waters of the ocean made, standing on the white sand beaches, and basking in the picturesque beauty of the rainforests that stretched on the rocky slopes of the cliffs that rose high in the center of the great isles of The Abhorijinis.

But it was an order that made him go sneaking like a rat in the underground sewers, although much of the tunnels and gutters were cleaner here more than the ones on the eastern side. Most of the tunnels that led east-to-west had been blockaded a long time ago.

The ground beneath him was all stone, so were the walls on either side of him. The surface of the walls, however, were jagged. He minded them not, only the darkness. He missed the sun that he knew was shining outside, bright and yellow. If only it were not for the orders of the Lady Aimora...he would be standing above ground, not in these dark subterranean tunnels.

His footfalls were low. Kakuro was careful not to make any sound. He had come here after his employer had asked him to investigate the truth behind ritualistic murders and the presence of a temple dedicated to The Brothers Dark. His employer wanted to know whether people in the city were indeed worshipping The Shadow, whether those involved had given up the religion that said The Trinity were Gods.

It wouldn't do him good if any of them found out. His investigations had revealed the existence of a devil-worshipping cult that sacrificed animals and slaves the kingdom bought from lands on the continent far away to the east. Not from Galacor, but from Armandor and the far regions to the north. Blood magic, his employer had said. Darker the blood, more power to The Shadow.

He had spat at the term. He had never thought the people in the Abhorijinis were capable of such dark and evil things. Why would people even want to pay obeisance to The Brothers Dark? Answers of any kind escaped him. It seemed so naive to expect anything from those who had turned to evil and used sorcery to get what they want. Why would anyone consider leaving the respectful domain of The Trinity?

The Hashims, who worked on behalf of the Three Primordials, took good care of those who stayed loyal to them. After all, they were the original inhabitants of Glaecea. And merciful and bountiful as they were, they had gifted most of the continent to the mortals who had come scouting for lands from the unknown lands in the west. The Hashims, or like people liked to refer them as -- angels, had restricted themselves to the domains of the south and rarely interfered in the affairs of men. So what harm was there in their servitude? Through their powers that belonged to the light, they protected us from darkness whenever they could, aiding in the fight against The Shadow. He had heard of the cursed lands to the east of Galacor. He knew what had happened there. The Brothers Dark had been defeated and banished to the icy regions of the north. And some people still liked to hail them as heroes. He scoffed at their choices.

If some of them in the Abhorijinis practiced the dark arts, he would gladly send them to the confines of hell. He would not give them even a proper funeral. He would let their bodies rot and leave them to be food for the vultures.

He heard voices.

They seemed more like whispers, incantations spoken in a language alien to him. He peeped through a hole in the wall and saw in the adjoining corridor an idol, as black as shadow, sitting inside a brick temple, anointed on all the four sides by candles that burned with a golden flame. In front of the idol, in two separate columns of four rows each, with a narrow path in between them, sat the followers who worshiped the darkness. Heretics, he cursed them.

If this wasn't enough to surprise him, there was more. On the narrow path that divided the sets of the dark cult walked the royal couple, arm-in-arm, a smile on their faces. He balked at the sight of his King and Queen. This wasn't possible, he told himself, yet the truth was right in front of him. If the rulers of this land had themselves bowed to The Shadow, then the realm was doomed. He made to move, to go report back to his employer, but then, he heard the loud bleat of a goat.

He peeked again. The goat was being led by an old man clothed in white, the noose hanging tightly around its neck. The man must be a priest of some kind, he guessed.

As the old man stood in front of the idol, he bowed to it and turned to face his acolytes. 'Brothers, sisters, we are met here to pay our respects to those lords of men and daemons who have conquered many lands and even now that their power is weakened, their name brings fear to even the hearts of the bravest men. Today we shall sacrifice the one that gives us milk to drink, one that nourishes our life force, and lend our power to the Brothers whose will lets us live. Our King and Queen bow to them, so why should we not? By our actions shall they rise to power again, and when that happens, we shall be richly rewarded. A huge war approaches, my friends, one that will engulf kingdoms of men into a darkness so black as void that mankind shall know no escape. But we, his followers, shall weather that storm, for we shall be protected. So, my Brothers and Sisters, shall we proceed with our ceremony? Shall we lend aid to those powers that give us our food to eat, our houses for shelter, our water to drink, and our gold to survive?'

'Aye!' shouted the acolytes in unison.

The priest tugged at the rope that hung around the goat's neck. The four-legged animal bleated again as it was forced up into the altar. He could not handle hearing his cries and just as carefully as he had come, he left. Not long after as he climbed the secret stairs, he heard the goat's screams, knowing that it had died at the hands of cruel men who sought the destruction of their own race for their own paltry ends. He grunted and raced up into the corridors of the great citadel. It was time to apprise his employer of what was going to happen.

***