Page 15 of As Above, So Below

Yet I can’t tear my eyes away.

A full moon hangs overhead, partially hidden behind swiftly traveling clouds. The temple rises to meet it. Though its highest peaks aren’t as tall as Castle Erus, it remains impressive all the same. Its tallest spire sits centered, featuring a large, round darkened, glass window. Smaller spires rise on either side, with windows resembling a waning and waxing moon of the same dark glass.

Smooth, white pillars support an intricately carved roof. The overhang adorned with silver inlaid symbols depicting the same three moon phases. Moonflower vines crawl around the pillars, their petals shining a bright white in the light cast by the magelights floating overhead.

Towering dark wood doors provide entry, closed for the timebeing. My eyes fall to the figures standing before them, at the top of the stairs. Two pairs of black-robed and hooded mortals stand on either side of one in silver.

The one in silver hadn’t been there a moment ago. Where did they come from? Ylara stands at the base of the stairs, motionless. Watching, I realize. Waiting. Listening to the hunting instinct.

A moment passes and finally Ylara begins to climb the stairs, and I force my feet to follow. I approach the edge of the parted crowd.

One of the six figures at the top is her mark.

The silver-robed figure walks forward, approaching the altar and raises their arms heavenward. A silver-bladed dagger glints in the light.

I’m going to assume the one on the altar is Ylara’s mark.

Which means this isn’t a prayer service.

It’s a gods damnedsacrificialritual.

Celesta’s devoted are sacrificing a human.

Why?

Does Celesta realize thisgiftis damned? Are these mortals about to offend a goddess with their offering? I don’t want to be here if so.

The man on the altar moves, his head lolling to the side.

Drugged.

He’s been drugged.

Doesherealize what’s about to happen?

I’d expect this kind of behavior from demons, butfae?

Repulsed, I continue toward the center of the crowd, walking down the makeshift aisle the devotees have created. Movement in the upper left corner of my vision pulls my attention left. Yet another figure stands leaning against one of the pillars, hood drawn, face hidden by shadow.

Staring as I continue slowly toward the stairs, the figure is donning black, but it’s not the black robes others are wearing. Judging by the height and build of the figure, it’s a fae male.

A guard perhaps?

No. There’s a distinct lack of weapons on him. Nothing at his waist, nothing across his chest or back. Silver embroidery along the hem of his hood becomes apparent. He foldshis arms over his chest, and matching silver on the cuff of his shirt makes itself known.

Whomever this male is, he possesses wealth.

Regardless of who, or what, he is, his demeanor makes it clear he has no interest in participating in the ritual. He watches everything silently from afar.

A small smile curls my lips.

I wonder if the observer knows he’s being observed?

He shifts, glancing over the crowd as I turn away, returning my sights to Ylara. She stands at the foot of the altar, her bat-like wings pulled tight against her. With a smirk, I nod to myself.

I know exactly what she’s feeling.

The hunting instinct is screaming at her, letting her know she’s found her target and minutes remain.