Tash's POV
I stood in front of the gigantic temple doors, staring at them thoughtfully. On the outside I was calm, but on the inside, I was terrified. The others mightn't know of the very real danger behind those giant doors, but I did, and that knowledge was coating my palms with sweat and quickening my breathing. It didn't help that three 'guards' were standing around me, looking ferocious.
Then Amber started grumbling. "This is stupid. This top is stupid. It's like wearing a damn jumper! Its making me look fat! See?" She shook her sleeves at Lyta, who was wearing the dress. She smirked. "You sure that's the clothes?" She was looking like a regal priestess, the clothes flattering her figure, the dagger giving her that warrior look, just like a Dark Soul worshipper, until Amber jumped her and messed up her hair.
Ana, being the sensible one of the group, broke them up quickly. "Calm down, you two. Someone could turn up at any moment." She nodded to me. "You ready?" I arched an eyebrow at her. "I'm about to walk into a temple full of psychopathic murderers who worship Virus, join in their cult and then blow up their monster. What do you think?"
She cringed at the thought. "Fair point. Good luck." She stepped forward, and we hugged. I went to pull back, but she gripped my shoulder, and whispered into my ear, "I'm ready to tell you guys who I really am. I think you need to know." Then she stepped back, and gave me a single nod before walking away.
Lyta and Amber waved at me before jogging after her, jewelled dagger sheaths glinting in the sunlight. I swallowed my nerves, smoothed down my dress one last time and pushed open the doors, my face becoming a mask of coldness and indifference to lower life; I was blending in great already.
As I strolled along a dark hallway, flickering torches feebly piercing the darkness, I saw a gigantic courtyard ahead, smooth white marble and the size of a teenage Ender Dragon. Pillars soared into the sky, each one supporting a carved figure.
Just as I was about to step out into the dazzling sunshine, a worshipper stepped into my path. He too had a handsome, royal face; a trait born or given to every Dark Soul worshipper. He narrowed his eyes at me, and I felt my throat go dry.
"Do I know you?" He asked suspiciously, scanning me from head to toe. I wasn't sure how to answer; until I saw the steel band in his hair. A warrior, nowhere near as high-ranking as me. So I did what an average High Priestess would do.
My hand came around and cracked across his face, sending him stumbling back a few paces. "Fool!" I snarled, advancing on him. "Are you blind?" As I said this, I tilted my head slightly so he could see the gold band in my hair. His eyes widened with terror.
"Forgive me, Messenger!" He gasped, falling to his knees, clasping his hands like he was praying. "I meant no disrespect, I am merely a humble fool!" "That you are," I replied coldly, "Which is why you should be given the death sentence. I should not even be speaking to the likes of you."
He fell face-first onto the ground, which I found kind of funny, but I stayed in character. "Please, Great Messenger of the Gods, show mercy! You are all Powerful, a creature of Sura Himself! Show mercy!" I glsred at his trembling form. "Your death would mean nothing to me; you are an insolent worm, someone who crawls in the dirt before me."
I paused. "However, you have grovelled appropriately. Instead of death, spill your blood over the Altar, as a sacrifice for the gods." He sat up, nodding furiously. "Yes, Messenger! Thank you, Great One! Which Altar shall it be?"
I mulled it over, thinking. The Altars, as I'd read, were for Sura and the Wither, but they had much smaller ones, too, for the other three Kings.
"The King of the Nether." I said, and he scrambled to his feet. "Of course, my Lady. Right away." And he sprinted away, across the courtyard, his dark black cloak streaming out behind him like Dragon's wings.
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