Sparks in the Dark

Malachar left the ritual chamber with satisfaction radiating from every step. The goblin's corpse still lay on the stone floor, blood drying and leaving dark stains that glistened in the light of the black candles.

"The ritual will begin in a few hours," the necromancer said before disappearing behind the large wooden doors. "Make sure our two 'guests' remain in… optimal condition."

Jorik and the other two guards remained in the corner of the room, their eyes darting to us occasionally with a mixture of boredom and sadistic anticipation. But I could sense something had changed in the atmosphere of the room.

Elira was no longer crying. She sat with her back against the iron pole, her blue eyes staring blankly ahead. But it wasn't the blankness of despair—it was the look of someone deep in thought.

"Priestess," I whispered, low enough for the guards not to hear. "Are you all right?"

"All right?" Elira turned to me, a bitter smile on her lips. "I just witnessed the being I was trying to save being slaughtered before my eyes. I just realized that ten thousand prayers in the last ten years were meaningless. I just understood that kindness without power is foolishness."

She paused, her eyes returning to the goblin corpse. "So no, I'm not fine. But I'm also not as broken as they expected."

"Good," I muttered, eyeing the guards' positions.

"Because we need to get out of here."

"Get out?" Elira laughed softly, her voice devoid of humor. "You see these chains? You see those guards? You see this windowless room?"

"I see everything," I replied, moving my wrist gingerly, testing the strength of the chains. "But I see something else, too."

"What?"

"Jorik and the other guard keep looking toward the door," I whispered. "They're nervous. Malachar may have gone to prepare for the ritual, but he could also have gone to get something. Or someone."

Elira followed my gaze. Sure enough, the two guards seemed nervous, whispering to each other every now and then as they glanced toward the door.

"More victims?" Elira whispered.

"Most likely," I nodded. "A ritual this large cannot possibly use the blood of just one priestess.

Malachar must need more… materials."

"Then how can we use this?"

I smiled thinly. "You're starting to think practically, priestess. I like that."

"Don't call me priestess anymore," Elira said in a harsher tone than before. "That name no longer suits me."

"Very well, Elira," I corrected. "Now listen carefully. These chains are strong, but the iron pole we're tied to has a weakness."

I pointed with a smooth motion to the bottom of the pole. "Look at the part that touches the floor.

There's a small crack in the stone. If we can make this pole vibrate hard enough…"

"The pole will loosen," Elira added, her eyes beginning to light up. "But how do we create a strong enough vibration without alerting the guards?"

"This way," I moved my left foot carefully. "My boot has a hidden compartment. There's explosive powder in it—not much, but enough to be a distraction."

Elira stared at me, her eyes wide. "You… you're not a regular prisoner, are you?"

"No," I admitted flatly. "But that's a story for another day. Now focus on the plan."

"How are you going to use the explosive powder?"

"I'm going to peel some of the powder off my boot, mix it with some rock dust, and create a sort of… little surprise. Just enough to make the guards panic and run outside to call for help."

"And we use that opportunity to break free from the pole?"

"Exactly," I nodded. "But there's a problem. Once we're free from the pole, we still have to get out of this compound. And I don't know the way out."

"I know," Elira said suddenly.

"What?"

"When they dragged me here, I memorized the route. An old habit from the training temple." She looked at me with eyes that were no longer naive.

"Main corridor, turn left three times, straight until the stone stairs, go up two flights, iron door at the end."

"Impressive," I smiled. "You are no ordinary priestess."

"I told you not to call me priestess," Elira reminded me sharply. "Now, when do we start?"

I studied the guards again. They were whispering more intensely, and one of them kept looking toward the door with obvious anxiety.

"Soon," I muttered. "When they are more distracted. But there is one thing you should know, Elira."

"What?"

"After we get out of here, we have to part ways," I said quietly. "You should go back to your temple, report what happened here. I… I have other business to attend to."

"No," Elira shook her head vehemently. "We ran together, we stayed together."

"Look, you don't understand—"

"No, you don't understand," Elira interrupted. "I'm not going back to the temple. I'm not going to report anything. I'm not going to pretend that I can still be an innocent healer after all this."

"Then what are you going to do?"

Elira's eyes flashed with something that made me uncomfortable. "I'm going to find Malachar. I'm going to find every necromancer, every cultist, every monster who uses darkness to harm innocent people. And I'm going to stop them."

"By what means?"

"By any means necessary," Elira replied in a cold, final tone. "Goodness is not enough. It's time for justice."

I stared at her with a mixture of awe and worry.

"Elira, it's not an easy path. It's a path that will turn you into—"

"Into what?" she challenged. "To become someone who can protect those who cannot protect themselves? To become someone who will not allow monsters like Malachar to run free?"

"To become someone who cannot return," I said quietly. "To become someone who will lose his best part in the process."

"My best part died when the goblin was slain," Elira said with a gleam in her eyes. "Now all that remains is justice."

The sound of footsteps echoed from outside the room, and the two guards stood at attention. The door opened, and Malachar reentered with three more guards.

"Master Malachar," Jorik bowed respectfully. "All is ready for the ritual."

"Very well," the necromancer nodded, looking at us with sadistic satisfaction. "But before that, there is one thing I wish to say to our… guests."

He stepped toward us, dark eyes gleaming with anticipation. "Beautiful Priestess, you put on quite an entertaining show. The transformation from innocent healer to potential avenger. Very… arousing."

Elira stared at him, eyes burning with pure hatred.

"But," Malachar continued with a wider smile, "there is one thing you must know. This ritual will not kill you quickly. It will be… prolonged. And before you die, there will be several… activities you must undergo."

He turned to his guards. "Make sure she remains… intact for now. But once the ritual is complete, you may do whatever you wish with her body."

The guards grinned with disgusting lust.

"If you stay…" I whispered to Elira as Malachar turned away, "they will rape you, not save you."