Trap

The steel gates suddenly creaked opened. The bloody mess either fell to the ground or remained glued to the weapon of murder.

But that did not obstructed the crazy and terrified crowd to rush out of the door, adding to the body count in the process.

Soon, the lower floor was completely barren. The benches were in a mess. Only about a dozen of bodies lied on the marbled ground, footsteps printed all over them.

Along with the crowd, the voice disappeared. No matter how much the head priest shouted, there was nobody to answer back.

The bishop was sitting at one corner of the hall, still drenched in sweat. No matter how much he tried to get the experience out of his mind, it only etched further and further into his memories.

A sigh escaped his lips.

Tonight, he stared right into the eyes of death itself.

******

The party of four returned to the lower marketplace.