Page 44 of Tides of Shadows

“And yet the Dominium pays well for the protection of the south,” I said and a grimace appeared on his face.

“I prefer the lives of my people over more coins in a treasure. I need help in the south. I need men. Cassandra won’t give me that.”

“And Eric Salvadore?”

“He plays his own game, he always has. I need something more…”, he replied, looking at me, as though I had some answers.

“There is not much water in the desert,” I said quietly.

A faint smile touched his lips as he was studying my face.

“I know.”

We got to the old structure tucked away from the main halls. Stone pillars, darker than the rest of white palace, worn by centuries, rose toward a shadowed ceiling.

“You wished to show me an old Elementar temple?” I asked. “There are still a few left on Thalrock.”

“This is not only a temple,” he said. “Also a passage.”

“A passage to where?”

“The catacombs.”

“Where?”

“The catacombs,” he repeated calmly. “They lie beneath the entire palace.”

“How do you know this?” I asked, my unease sharpening with each step.

“When I was younger, I spent some time in White City. I didn’t keep company with the young nobles. I wandered alone and learned every hidden spot.

“Will you please light a torch,” he asked, nodding to the altar candles.

“Can’t you do it yourself?” I asked, surprised.

“I would rather not.”

He truly was avoiding his power. He was afraid, or he knew too well what might follow if he used his force.

We went down. The stone steps were steep and slick. I held the torch, and its flame cast ominous shadows that crawled along the walls. After a long descent we came into a low chamber carved into the rock. On the walls were drawings, similar to those I’d seen in books.

In the chamber stood four stone bowls on slender columns. Behind each, signs and carvings marked the elements. The colors were barely visible, faded by time: white, blue, red, and green. The drawings depicted faceless gods and people kneeling before them with sacrifices: coins, stones and animals. I don’t remember we ever gave offerings to the gods. It was a long-forgotten tradition.

All the vases were covered in dust, aside from the bowl of air. It seemed cleaner but stained with something ruby at the bottom, resembling blood.

On the opposite wall was a drawing of a figure in black. Below we could see the gods of elements, depicted on their knees with faces twisted in pain. At the bottom ran an inscription. Letters carved into the stone, half of them already erased by time, the other half barely readable.

When the breath of creation kissed the void,

Four rose to bind the chaos into form.

Water, that gives life and takes it.

Air, that whispers and suffocates.

Fire, that warms and devours.

Earth, that births and buries.