𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐒𝐧𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬

8: Temple of The Divine Snake

The temple was unlike anything Aziz had ever seen. Hidden beneath the earth, carved from the bones of the world itself, this forgotten place seemed like a relic from a time long past, its existence unknown even to the village elders. The chamber was vast, the walls lined with flickering torches that cast a warm, unearthly glow. How had the flames remained lit after all these years? The temple must have been untouched for centuries.

Aziz hesitated only a moment before reaching out to lift one of the torches from its sconce. The torch was warm in his hand, the flame real and alive, illuminating the chamber with a brilliance that his night-vision could never match. With the torch held aloft, he saw the temple in colour for the first time, each detail of the ancient structure coming to life in the firelight.

The narrow bridge that stretched before him spanned a dark chasm, its stone surface rough and uneven, as though it had been hastily carved or worn down by countless footsteps from an era long forgotten. Aziz moved cautiously, each step echoing in the vast emptiness, the torchlight casting shifting shadows that danced at the edges of his vision.

Halfway across the bridge, something drew his gaze downward. He paused, peering over the edge, his breath catching in his throat. Hundreds of tiny purple pinpricks stared up at him from the darkness below, unblinking, their malevolent gaze piercing through his night-vision's limitations. Raising the torch higher, he illuminated the chasm below, revealing the seething mass of serpents that lay in wait.

They were eyes—hundreds, perhaps thousands of them—belonging to a writhing, living tide of serpents, their bodies entwined in a ceaseless, sinuous dance. The snakes moved as one, their black scales shimmering in the torchlight, a chorus of hisses rising to greet him, a symphony of venomous whispers that seemed to welcome him. It was as if they recognized something in him, a kinship between human and serpent, something shared in their blood.

They don't look extinct to me, Aziz thought grimly.

The symbols carved into the pillars around the chamber were familiar, their designs echoing those he had seen around Fang Mountain. They belonged to an ancient sect, one whose name was spoken in hushed tones by the village elders—the Bloodcoil Sect. Long ago, this sect had ruled over the three peaks, its influence vast and terrible. The sect had vanished around the same time the black-death serpents had disappeared from the woods, leaving behind only fear and hatred that lingered like a curse over the generations.

Aziz remembered the stories the elders had told, how the Bloodcoil Sect's reputation had turned the other villages against Fang Mountain, refusing to give aid even in times of dire need. The village had once been a thriving hub under the sect's rule, rich and powerful, but now it was reduced to nothing, its people punished for sins they hadn't committed. It was said the Bloodcoil Sect wanted to be separated from the Kingdom of Umbra, an independent state, something the King himself couldn't tolerate. Stories passed by tongue told how the martial artists of the Bloodcoil Sect would appear in the night and disappear by dawn leaving death in their wake. Many had said that the Sect was actually close to achieving the first independent state under control of a martial sect. But something had gone terrible wrong. Rumours said the Divine Snake, their god, had abandoned the Sect, caused by a betrayal from someone inside the Sect. No one know what truly happened apart from the people that were their. Either way, the impudence of the Sect, had gone too far in the eyes of many. Making Aziz was one of the many who bore the weight of that legacy.

Had the Blood Coil Sect gathered all the black-deaths and hidden them away in this temple? And if so, for what purpose? The questions swirled in his mind as he stepped through the archway leading to an altar at the centre of the chasm. The hissing grew louder as he approached, the serpents below seeming to sense his presence, their movements more agitated, more frenzied.

On the altar, carved into the stone, was the symbol of the ancient sect—a black-death serpent coiled in a spiral, its mouth open wide as if to consume its own tail, forming a perfect circle. Aziz traced the grooves with his fingers, feeling the cold stone beneath his touch.

Eternity. The eternal hunger. The only way out is through. The followers of the Blood Coil Sect had believed in embracing the poisons of the world, in drowning in them forever. A tear slipped down Aziz's cheek, though he couldn't understand why. There was a deep sadness here, an unspoken despair that resonated within him. He quickly wiped the tear away, forcing himself to focus.

His gaze fell upon a dusty old manual resting on the altar. The cover was worn, but the title was still legible—Lowly Serpent's Breath. Aziz couldn't believe his eyes. A martial arts manual, hidden away in this underground temple, belonging to one of the most ancient and feared sects in the martial world.

He picked it up, about to open it, when a sudden silence fell over the chamber. The hissing of the snakes ceased, leaving the air thick with tension. Aziz's heart raced as reality came crashing back. How long had he been here? Surely too many hours had passed. Panic set in, and he sprinted back to the hole, pushing the book through first before crawling through himself. Back in the pit, he quickly concealed the manual in the hole, sitting in front of it to cover any signs of his discovery. He forced himself to calm his breathing, knowing he couldn't afford to look suspicious.

Just as he caught his breath, the pit door opened once again. This time it was the subordinate from the first visit, the one who had mocked him, who now dropped another pouch of bread into the pit. Aziz didn't look up, his eyes fixed on the ground as he waited for the man to leave. But the man didn't go. He stood there, watching Aziz in silence, his presence heavy with suspicion. Do they know? Aziz wondered, struggling to keep his nerves in check.

Dying wasn't the problem; Aziz had come to terms with that. But he wasn't foolish enough to believe there was no cost to his resurrections. Everything had a price, and until he understood the reason for his undying nature, he knew he had to avoid death as much as possible.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the man turned and walked away, the pit door closing behind him. Aziz exhaled a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. He was safe—for now. But he knew that time was running out. He needed to learn what was in that manual, to understand the secrets of the Bloodcoil Sect, and to find a way out of this nightmare. Only then could he begin to unravel the mystery of his captors, and why they had taken him and so many others.