Chapter 15 – The Heart of the Cult

  The temple door was massive.

  It wasn't ordinary wood—it was worked stone, so ancient that the symbols carved into it had worn away until they almost disappeared. What remained were only shadows of meaning, echoes of forgotten purpose.

  Finn pushed with both hands.

  The door yielded slowly, creaking like old bone being forced, revealing absolute darkness on the other side.

  The group entered.

  The corridor beyond was wide enough for three people to walk side by side. The walls were smooth stone, worked with precision impossible for primitive tools. The ceiling arched above them, disappearing into the gloom that Keara's light could barely penetrate.

  And on the walls... engravings.

  Steve saw them as they advanced, briefly illuminated by the warm light before returning to shadow.

  The first showed human figures kneeling in a circle. In the center, a larger silhouette—not human, but something close—with multiple arms extended as if blessing or cursing the devotees.

  The second engraving was more disturbing. People being pushed—or jumping voluntarily, Steve couldn't tell—into a deep hole. The expressions on the carved faces were too ambiguous. Fear? Ecstasy? Both?

  The third showed the hole again, but now something was emerging from it. Humanoid shapes, but distorted, deformed, as if they had been broken and reassembled wrong.

  Steve felt his stomach turn.

  "These inscriptions..." he murmured, unable to look away. "What are they showing?"

  Finn didn't slow his pace.

  "That's why we need to be quick," he said, his voice hard. "To prevent this from happening again."

  They continued in tense silence.

  The corridor stretched endlessly. No windows, no landmarks, just stone and increasingly disturbing engravings. They walked until finally the corridor ended, opening into a wide chamber.

  And it was completely empty.

  There was no altar. No statues. Just worn stone and some rusted weapons scattered on the floor—broken swords, shattered spears, all abandoned for decades.

  Fog was the first to speak.

  "Did that guy trick us?"

  Dagon frowned.

  "Doesn't make sense. Why bring us here if there's nothing?"

  Finn gritted his teeth, frustration visible.

  Then took a deep breath.

  "There's no reason to get discouraged now. There's probably some secret passage in this room. Let's search until we find it."

  And they began.

  Minutes passed. Frustration grew. Movements became more abrupt.

  Finally, Dagon stopped, resting his hands on the wall.

  "Damn..."

  Jelím descended slowly. Her voice came cold.

  "Should have killed that servant outside."

  Steve watched everything from afar, feeling useless again.

  That's when something caught his attention.

  High on the opposite wall, near the ceiling, there was a symbol. Small. Discreet. But *familiar*.

  The same pattern he'd seen on the cultists' robes.

  "Hey!" he shouted. "Look up there!"

  Everyone turned.

  Steve pointed.

  "That symbol! It's the same one the cultists use!"

  Finn narrowed his eyes.

  "You're right... but it's too high."

  Steve was already moving.

  "Can someone help me get up there?"

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  "Jelím," Dagon said simply.

  The masked woman raised her hands.

  Steve felt his feet leave the ground. He rose smoothly until he was level with the symbol.

  Up close, he could see better—the symbol was carved deeper than the others. The edges were cleaner. As if it were used regularly.

  He extended his hand.

  Touched the center.

  The stone yielded slightly.

  *Click.*

  The ground trembled.

  Directly below him, a section of stone began to recede, revealing an opening.

  "I FOUND IT!" Steve shouted, unable to contain his joy. "IT'S THE SECRET PASSAGE!"

  For the first time since arriving in this world, he felt *useful*.

  He wasn't carried. He wasn't saved.

  He *contributed*.

  Dagon looked up, genuine pride on his face.

  "Good job, kid!"

  Jelím brought him down.

  When Steve's feet touched the ground, he turned to thank her.

  And stopped.

  Jelím was centimeters away.

  *When had she gotten so close?*

  Through the mask, he felt her eyes fixed. Not on his face. Lower. On his chest. Where his heart beat. Where the HUD blinked invisible to everyone except him.

  "You..." her voice came out different. Less cold. More... curious? "...are strange."

  Steve felt a chill run down his spine.

  "Is there... any problem?"

  Silence too long.

  "Not yet."

  And she moved away, returning to float.

  Steve stood still, his heart racing for a reason he didn't fully understand.

  Finn was already moving.

  "Let's go."

  The corridor beyond was narrow. The walls pressed closer. The claustrophobic feeling increased with each step.

  Then they heard it.

  Voices. Distant. Muffled.

  Many of them.

  Not conversations—*chanting*.

  Finn raised his hand, stopping the group.

  "Stay alert."

  They advanced carefully. The sound grew. Rhythmic. Coordinated. Dozens of voices in disturbing unison.

  The corridor ended in more stairs.

  Descending.

  Deeper. Further from the surface.

  They descended slowly. Silently.

  When they reached the bottom, they found themselves in a small alcove—a hidden space behind columns that concealed them from the chamber beyond.

  And then they saw.

  The chamber was colossal.

  The ceiling arched too high to see, lost in shadows. The walls curved in a perfect circle, covered with symbols that *glowed* with their own light—not reflecting, but producing weak, sickly luminescence.

  On the elevated platforms, hundreds of people were seated. Empty eyes. Mouths moving in sync with the chant.

  The platforms were divided. One section only women. Another only men. And the highest—only children.

  All singing with voices that shouldn't sound so empty.

  In the center, there was a throne of black stone.

  Seated on it, a figure dressed completely in red. Didn't move. Just existed, radiating a presence that made the air seem dense.

  In front of the throne, kneeling, was Kairo. His deformed face exposed, his destroyed mouth moving in prayer.

  Behind him, dozens of cultists kneeling, chanting, lost in devotion.

  On the right side of the throne, there was an enormous hole. Black smoke rose in columns, carrying suffocating heat. Occasionally, something glowed down there—pulsing red light that suggested something *alive*.

  On the left side...

  Finn saw them.

  The world stopped.

  It wasn't relief. It wasn't joy at finding them alive.

  It was absolute *horror*.

  Diana was there.

  Bound from head to toe. The dress he remembered as white and clean was now torn, dirty, stained with things he didn't want to identify.

  Her face...

  *God, her face.*

  Her left eye was swollen, dark purple, almost closed. Split lip. Dried blood running from the corner of her mouth to her chin.

  Marks on her arms—not just ropes. *Burns*. Bruises in the shape of fingers where someone had held her with brutal force.

  And her belly.

  The small curve that carried their future, now exposed by the torn dress, covered in dirt.

  Diana was crying.

  Not in loud sobs—in silent tremors that shook her entire body. The kind of crying from someone who had screamed so much there were no forces left. The kind of crying from someone who had given up on being saved.

  Finn felt something *break* inside his chest.

  It wasn't a sound. It was a physical sensation—as if something solid that kept him functioning had cracked in half and now all the sharp pieces were loose, cutting from the inside.

  It wasn't anger.

  Anger was too small for what he felt.

  It was something deeper. More ancient. More *absolute*.

  His hand on the sword trembled.

  Not from fear.

  From the desire to *destroy*.

  To erase from existence everything and everyone who had touched her. To make them pay in ways that transcended simple death.

  The sisters beside Diana were equally broken—bruised, dirty, eyes empty of hope.

  Steve recognized them.

  "It's them," he whispered. "The girls who saved me."

  Finn couldn't respond.

  His throat was too tight. If he tried to speak, he knew only an animal scream would come out.

  That's when they saw new movement.

  Guards entered from the side, dragging another prisoner.

  Steve saw her.

  And forgot to breathe.

  It wasn't attraction. It wasn't desire.

  It was *recognition*.

  The girl had skin white as freshly fallen snow. Hair that alternated between deep black and silver gray, falling in waves to her waist. Long white dress contrasting with the dirt around her.

  But it was the eyes.

  Green. Glowing even in the gloom. Not reflecting light—*producing* their own light, faint but unmistakable.

  Steve couldn't look away.

  As if every cell in his body was screaming that this girl was *important*. That somehow, somewhere impossible to reach consciously, she was connected to him.

  The HUD blinked.

  Not the normal blink, annoying but ignorable.

  Blinked *violently*.

  The entire screen exploded in symbols Steve had never seen before. They weren't the usual error messages. They were *warnings*.

  > **ALERT**

  > **ENTITY DETECTED**

  > **CLASSIFICATION: [INCOMPATIBLE WITH LOCAL REALITY]**

  > **PROXIMITY NOT RECOMMENDED**

  > **SYSTEM ENTERING DEFENSIVE MODE**

  > **FRAGMENTATION RISK: 87%**

  Pain exploded behind his eyes.

  It wasn't gradual. It was *instantaneous*—as if someone had stuck hot needles directly into his brain.

  Steve staggered, vision darkening at the edges.

  Keara immediately grabbed his arm.

  "Steve! Are you okay?!"

  He wasn't.

  Because for the first time since arriving, the system had *reacted* to something beyond itself.

  For the first time, the HUD wasn't just failing.

  It was *afraid*.

  Steve forced his eyes to focus again, breathing in gasps.

  The girl was taken directly to Kairo.

  The guard bowed, pushing her forward.

  "Sir," he said, his voice echoing. "She is a Nessira."

  Kairo slowly raised his head.

  When he saw the girl, the smile that appeared on his deformed face was horrible.

  "Excellent," he said, sickly pleasure vibrating in his voice. "She will be our best offering of all."

  That's when his voice changed.

  Got louder. Clearer.

  Cutting through the chant like a blade.

  "**Good thing you arrived.**"

  Steve's blood froze.

  Kairo turned slowly, dead eyes finding their hiding place through the impossible distance.

  "**We were already wondering if you would come.**"

  The smile widened.

  "**Intruders.**"

  Absolute silence fell.

  Finn gritted his teeth, stepping out from cover.

  "There's no plan anymore," he said, low but firm. "Just fight. Survive. Save as many prisoners as you can."

  The rest of the group followed him.

  The crowd on the platforms reacted instantly.

  Screams. Pointing.

  A woman stood up—the Abject's mother.

  "**That one!**" she shouted, pure hatred breaking her voice. "**That's the damned boy responsible for my son's death! KILL HIM!**"

  The crowd exploded.

  **"KILL! KILL! KILL!"**

  Kairo watched with pleasure.

  Then looked at the guards.

  "Don't hold back. Go all out."

  The guards began to transform.

  ---

  The first fell to his knees.

  His back arched at an angle human bones shouldn't allow.

  **CRACK.**

  The spine broke.

  But he didn't scream.

  *Laughed*.

  The skin began to tear—not from outside in, but from *inside out*. As if something larger was forcing passage through an envelope too small.

  Muscles contracted in wrong ways. Tendons stretched beyond their limit, then retracted violently.

  The jaw dislocated.

  Wet, horrible **POP**.

  Then dislocated *again*.

  A second mouth opened below the first—not a human mouth, but something wider, deeper, full of irregular black teeth.

  Drool began to drip. Not ordinary saliva—black liquid, thick, dripping on the floor with the sound of flesh hitting stone.

  But the worst...

  *The worst were the eyes.*

  They remained human.

  Conscious.

  Trapped inside a monster they no longer controlled, forced to watch their own body become a nightmare.

  And then it roared.

  A sound that shouldn't come from a human throat—deep, distorted, carrying an echo of pain and hunger mixed together.

  The other guards followed.

  One by one.

  Simultaneous transformations. Bones breaking. Skin tearing. Mouths multiplying.

  Dozens of Abjects.

  All turned toward the group.

  Kairo smiled.

  "**Go.**"

  Finn looked at the group one last time.

  "I know that by saying this I'm being selfish," his voice failed. "But I ask... even if we can't survive... help my family get out of this place."

  Jelím stared at him.

  "Never thought you'd be this proud."

  Finn let out a forced, broken smile.

  "Seems like everything has a first time."

  Dagon watched the horde running. Then looked at his own sword. Sighed.

  "You know I was trying to keep it clean, right?"

  Spun the blade casually.

  "Ah, fuck it."

  Finn nodded.

  Then shouted.

  **"LET'S GO!"**

  And they ran.

  Straight into hell.