Metea & Carthum: Shadows of the Past
The chapel.
It was a masterpiece. White stone, carved centuries before, rose in every direction, great pillars carved like trees holding up a ceiling painted with visages of the god's great works and at the very peak, the glass orb that held the Light Everlasting.
Carthum knelt at the doorway, just beyond the threshold. The long walk between the many wood pews stretched before him.
He would not move until summoned.
~ ~ ~ ~
"Did you know, my dear? Many years ago, the ceiling of the chapel was decorated with gold... diamonds... silver..."
It was quiet down here. A distant rush of water. The odd squeak of a happy family of rats.
"So beautiful."
Metea had slunk into the catacombs just before sunrise. While the priests prepared their morning sacrament, their blessings to the light, she had gone seeking in the dark.
"They tore it all down to keep the peace."
The catacombs were unlit, and she had no need to light a torch. She walked between the black walls, between the recesses where old bones slept the eternal sleep.
"They destroyed the beauty of their god to satisfy the weakness of greed."
She was not here to visit the dead, not here to pray. She needed to go even deeper.
~ ~ ~ ~
"Carthum. Vessel of the Light of Suru. Rise."
The priest's voice boomed unnaturally across the great chapel. As Carthum stood, his priestly raiment falling awkwardly around green skin and orcish muscles, the cloaked figures in the pews stood as well.
They all wore the grey robes of Suru's blessed. Priests an paladins, anointed with the trust of the clergy, with the will of Suru, to stand in the light. As Carthum passed them, walking slowly to the great pulpit at the head of the chapel, the cloaked figures, one by one, pulled back their hoods. They turned their faces to the Light Everlasting, to the sunlight peeking in through the stained glass windows.
He stood before the high priest.
~ ~ ~ ~
Soon enough, she could not walk, but had to crawl. The catacombs had ended. The tomb began.
Ever since she was a child, Metea had come here. Pried back boards, pushed at loose bricks, dug out soil with her bare hands, little by little, bit by bit. Every time she had visited, she had needed to open the passageway towards the burial chamber itself more.
And even now, she could not get into the tomb itself.
The passageway opened up before the Door. A great wooden door, etched with mysterious symbols, burned and battered, but unopened by all of her attempts. Someone had locked it. Sealed it. With magic.
"My dear. Today the sun rises, but also, the moon sets."
"I don't understand," Metea whispered in response. Or continued to whisper? It was so hard to tell. "I don't want to be alone. I don't want to be left behind."
"You are never alone, not while I am here. And I will never leave you, not while the terms are upheld."
~ ~ ~ ~
The blessed sacraments were long, but Carthum repeated them without hesitation, and without error.
Suru, of course, was a god who greatly enjoyed ceremony, as any did. But Suru did not care about pretty words as much as the others. He cared about deeds.
"The mighty Suru recognizes you as his vessel, to spread his light and shield the weak," the high priest intoned. "Turn, now, cleric of Suru, turn and face the light!"
He would turn, and as it did for innumerable clerics before him, the Light Everlasting gleamed, the rising sun caught the stained glass windows, and Carthum seemed to glow.
~ ~ ~ ~
"They talk behind your back. They whisper about the darkness of your soul. But it is no foul thing to understand darkness. It is not evil to shun the light."
"Take it. Take it, and know that I shall whisper secrets of power, if you whisper secrets of the dark."
Metea blinked in the darkness. She reached forward cautiously, picking up an amulet she had never before noticed, which rested on a loose brick by the door. Her flesh tingled at the very touch. She felt it.
Power.
She closed her eyes, holding the amulet tight, and Metea seemed to glow.
(jp!)
