The forest dimmed into twilight. The golden streaks of the setting sun slid between the trees, casting long, shifting shadows.
'Now would be a good time for the Corrupted Draconic Spawn to start moving.' Amon thought, leaned back against the trunk of a crooked tree, his arms crossed, his gaze occasionally moving to the female Hobgoblin sitting a few steps away.
Syl's wrists were still tied tightly behind her back, rope digging into her green skin. Her facial expression, however, had calmed down.
It had been some time since Akane vanished into the treeline, her brown tail disappearing among the bushes and leaves in search of food.
Syl shifted, breaking the silence. "What happened to that thing?"
Amon tilted his head. That thing?"
"You know the one."
"Don't worry about it." Amon answered after a moment.
Her brows furrowed. "That's not an answer."
Amon scratched his chin. "I suppose it isn't. But why do you care? You haven't warned us about those coming after you."
"Are you saying that it's coming after you?" Syl muttered.
She really was quite sharp.
"So you took it. The artefact we came to get."
"Yes," Amon answered. "I have it."
With the knotted cloth around his hand, Syl could only assume that it was in one of his pockets.
The Fox was a shrewd one as well.
"Wanna take it back to your Chief?"
"That wouldn't do me much good…" Syl muttered, staring into the distance.
How much longer would she be able to prove useful before the tribe decides it's time for her to lay down her arms and spread her legs instead?
"Do you know what it is?" Syl asked, bitterness in her tone.
"I was hoping you would help me find out more about it."
The female Hobgoblin pursed her lips. It was a bargaining chip.
"Could go a long way to getting that rope off."
"Right." Syl sighed. "All I can tell you is that we weren't taking it for ourselves. The Hobgoblins are in continual war with the Orcs. We've allied ourselves with Demons to help. The Orcs aren't as much of a problem as they used to be thanks to that, but Demons require offerings. We've had the Goblin Village under our thumb for a while, and they bring us offerings."
"The Hobgoblins are protecting the Goblins?"
"No. We're allowing them to live in their village in exchange for periodic offerings."
"So it's a pay or we kill you kind of thing."
"Yes." Syl answered. "This time, however, they asked for something. The Goblins wanted something in exchange for their offering. It was a curious thing. They usually folded at the threat of war every time, but not this time."
"So you knew they had caught something big."
"That's right. We often kick up part of what the Goblins offered us to the Demons. However, this time, upon hearing a description of what the Goblins had found, the Demons wanted it all to themselves. In exchange, the Demons promised to help us get rid of Orcs once and for all."
Amon listened intently to her every word. Every sentence gave him a better glimpse at the different powers at play here, a better glimpse at this new world he had been reborn in.
His gaze lingered on her, waiting for more. However, Syl had fallen silent.
"That's when Akane enters, huh?"
Syl pressed her lips together.
"I did not know what the payment to the Goblins would be until I volunteered to take part in the exchange."
"Why did you volunteer?'
"Because I wanted to prove my usefulness." Syl answered, staring into the distance. "And because it was my idea, to ally ourselves to the Demons, to bring the Goblins under us, and…" Her gaze had slowly turned morose. "It was my idea to bring her village into all this."
As Amon's curiosity and interest peaked,
"It's time."
Kilometers away, beneath the cloak of night, a large fire burned, sheltered beneath twisted roots and ancient stones. Around it knelt a dozen figures, their hoods black, their voices whispering in prayer.
At their center stood a tall woman draped in blood red robes, a silver crescent gleaming on her brow.
"It's time…" The High Priestess of the Black Church whispered. "To reclaim it." Her hands hovered over the fire, and her lips parted with reverence, causing the flames to grow and glow with a pinkish hue. "Azaroth's Heart is near."
The pinkish flames grew and grew, burning the roots and melting the stones.
The three mixed and turned into a purplish goo that dripped to the ground heavily.
She raised her hands, and ripples ran through the three pools of goo.
The High Priestess lowered her hands until her fingers hovered just above the fire. "Rise." She ordered.
The pools churned violently. Bubbles burst, and faces began to form within the goo. Mouths without teeth, sockets without eyes. The Followers did not flinch as three masses rose, dragging themselves up as if rising from under the ground.
The first Golem was broad, its limbs thick and disproportionate, each hand ending in jagged claws of stone and hardened blood
The second was tall and skeletal, its arms elongated into whip-like tendrils of half-cooled slime and bone.
The third crawled low, many-legged like a grotesque insect, its back studded with shards of broken bone and hardened purple crystal that pulsed with faint light.
"Be my wings, my legs, and my eyes." The High Priestess muttered, and the Followers repeated after her.
"Be my wings, my legs, and my eyes."
"Be my wings, my legs, and my eyes."
A purplish glint momentarily shone in the High Priestess' eyes.
"Now go, little ones." The High Priestess said as she stepped in the forest's direction, her bare feet leaving no mark on the sacred ground. "Spread havoc, and force the Heart to reveal itself to me."
The Golems shuddered as if in answer. Purple light flared within their malformed chests, and with jerking, twitching movements, they began to stagger forward.
The Followers prostrated themselves, pressing their foreheads into the earth as the Golems moved past them and lurched into the trees.
" Yes…" The High Priestess raised her arms, the smile on her face widening. "Let the night begin."
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