“May I stand?” the soldier asked, his brown eyes fixed on Elliott. He looked like he was in his forties with his short-cropped black hair and stubble, though the skin around his cheeks was grizzled and taut, and lined with faint scars like a man who was twenty years older. Elliott glanced around and noticed the large tents huddled together in a corner at the base of the stairs to the Temple.

  He channelled some mana from his reserves in the direction of the tents, ripping them from their anchors. He channelled a little more, drew the sigils he needed to pull three of the high-backed oak chairs from where they were hiding and brought them over. He placed one behind the kneeling soldier and the other two he took for himself and Isabel.

  “You may sit,” Elliott said, nodding at the chair. “What should I call you?”

  “Parek,” the man said, glancing over his shoulder. Seeing the chair, he stood up and sat himself down, keeping his back straight. Beneath the blue cloak with its red cross and stars of the Bizayn Empire, the man wore a simple light-coloured linen shirt and light-brown linen breeches.

  “Lyla,” Elliott said, looking at the young assassin to his right. She was looking at the ground, though her eyes seemed to be trying to bore holes into it. She didn’t respond.

  “Lyla?” Elliott said again, more firmly this time. She almost jumped, glancing in his direction.

  “Yes?”

  “Everything alright?” Elliott asked.

  “Everything’s fine,” she replied, but he knew everything wasn’t fine. She’d been staring into space like that since she’d killed the last of the soldiers. He’d need to get to the bottom of it. He couldn’t have a liability at his side, and it seemed she was now struggling a little with the reality of who she was. Who they were.

  “I need you to start gathering the bodies. Bring them and pile them over there,” he nodded at the base of the stairs. “Give them a pat down for coin or anything useful first.”

  She blinked at him, then looked around at the thousands of dead bodies. The work wouldn’t be hard, but she’d probably never had to stand among her handiwork before and definitely not among so many at the same time.

  It was easy to kill from the shadows and walk away.

  Lyla nodded at him, and walked towards the five headless corpses in front of them first, grabbing several at the same time and running them to where he had said.

  Elliott took his seat, leaning back, his right foot balanced on his left knee. Elsie unhooked herself from his belt, jumping from his thigh to Isabel’s shoulder as she took the seat to his left.

  “I’m surprised you don’t know what the symbol represents,” Parek said, once they’d sat down. The soldier had his eyes on the pentagram in the centre of Elliott’s forehead.

  “What does it mean?”

  “It represents the five pillars of the Order of Balance. Truth, Purity, Liberty, Unity, Autonomy.”

  A silence passed between them as Parek kept his eyes on Elliott, every so often glancing at the pentagram on his forehead. Elliott was waiting for him to say more, but when it was apparent he thought Elliott should know what he meant, Elliott spoke.

  “Okay, I need you to explain it to me like I’m five. Like this is the first time I’m hearing about all of this. The Order. The gods. The symbol. Everything you know. In fact, explain it like I’m not from this world at all.”

  At the last statement, Parek cocked his head and his eyes widened like it all made sense now. He nodded to himself a couple of times as he stared into the distance before settling his eyes on Elliott.

  “The Order of Balance was founded half a century ago. It was a movement that sought to rid the world of false religion. The five pillars are their doctrine. Truth – that the gods don’t exist. Purity – to rid the world of the followers of those gods. Liberty – to free the world from the influence of the gods. Unity – to unify all races as one people. Autonomy – that we should determine our own fate, together.”

  “But the gods do exist?” Elliott asked. Parek raised an eyebrow at him.

  “That’s why you’re here at the temple? To kill the gods that reside here?”

  “There are no gods,” he ran a hand through his stubble, looking into the distance before turning back to Elliott. “Just stories of them. No-one’s ever seen them. Just the followers. That’s what the Order wants to extinguish.”

  “Why are you here then? Why send a small army to get rid of some followers?”

  “Because of the Rhianian resistance. The Order is allowed to operate in Bizayn, but they always have some of the army with them to ensure they operate within the defined limits. But because this part of the Empire is still contested, we needed more troops here while the Order captured followers. But when we got here, it had become a dungeon and with the resistance around, we needed even more troops until the Order cleared the dungeon.”

  “And dungeons appearing is a common thing here?”

  “Not as common now, but it’s not unheard of for an area to suddenly become a dungeon. Normally where there isn’t something already existing.”

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  Elliott glanced beyond Parek, to the top of the wide marble stairs and the fifty-metre tall swirling kaleidoscope of colour that was the entrance to the Temple dungeon. Before the dimensional barrier on Earth, dungeons had been like that, appearing at what seemed to be random. Adventurers would enter and have the opportunity to find rare spell or ability scrolls, potions that couldn’t be replicated, or weapons and armour that better harnessed and withstood their growing power, not to mention the stat boosts that were available for clearing enemies or puzzles.

  Elliott knew this dungeon was created specifically by the Twins if Aldric was to be believed. He returned his eyes to the soldier in front of him. Elliott doubted Aldric would lie about being protected by the gods and Elliott knew for a fact there was somebody here that was powerful enough to have summoned him. He could understand why such a person would be considered a god and yet, Parek here seemed to be entirely unaware of the gods that resided within.

  “Let’s go back a bit,” Elliott said, pointing at the pentagram on his forehead. “Do you know why the Order uses this symbol?”

  “What I’ve heard from my time among them is that the founder of the Order carries that mark.”

  Elliott cocked his head.

  “The founder?”

  “Founders, actually. I’ve heard there were six of them.”

  “You heard?”

  “It’s not common knowledge outside of the Order and I can’t attest to the truth of it. We’ve been out here for six months with them. Normally, it wouldn’t have been more than a week or two, but after so long, tongues become loose, rumours spread. Some of those rumours made it to my ears.

  “What I do know is that fifty or so years ago, the Order appeared in the Kingdom of Mahricia on the western shores, just south of what was the western region of Rhian at the time. The rumours are that a single man, bearing the mark that you bear began to gather others to his cause. To rid the world of what he said were false gods, their following and their influence. Their lies, if you will.

  “Over time, the Order of Balance grew until Mahricia became theirs. Then they spread to surrounding kingdoms. Though they never completely took over the other human nations, their influence spread.”

  “So, why do you think there’s six founders?”

  “That’s what I heard. One came to the human kingdoms. The others went to the other races.”

  “And where is this founder now?”

  “I don’t know. It was said that he disappeared after the first Chapters of the Order were established and the first fifteen of his followers were the ones who grew the Order to what it is now. They’re called the Disciples but the public face of the Order is their Primarch.

  “I never heard mention of the Founder or the Disciples until recently, having spent so much time among them here and seeing two of the Disciples myself. At least, I believe they were. The official word is that the first Primarch was the founder and that’s what you’ll see if you visit their basilicas but you won’t see that mark on him. There is no official reason for why they use this symbol except that it fits their principles and is aesthetically pleasing, I guess? But the rumours that I’ve heard is that the actual founders carried the mark on their foreheads.

  “Like you.”

  Elliott bent his arm, placing his hand against the side of his face, his thumb beneath his chin, his index finger against his temple as he narrowed his eyes at Parek.

  “I guess you’re not one of the founders then,” the man said with a flat smile.

  Elliott didn’t smile back. He’d gotten some answers but all it had done is left him with more questions, not least what the mark on his forehead actually meant. As far as he knew, he was the only one on Earth with such a mark, but here, there were others like him. Six of them if Parek was to be believed. Though it was only rumoured. Elliott glanced at the dungeon entrance again. He needed to find the gods that had summoned him. Whether real or not, if they had the power to summon him, he suspected they were the only ones who could give him the answers he needed.

  As he turned back to Parek, his eyes swept past Lyla at the base of the stairs. She was making neat pyres of people. Ten rows of ten bodies at the base, then nine rows of ten bodies resting on top, then eight rows working up like a pyramid. He could see that she was throwing money purses and other valuables to the side as she went along, before dashing off again.

  “Is there anything else you can tell me about the Order or the symbol? Anything you’re missing?”

  Parek looked at the ground at Elliott’s feet as he worked through the question, but then faced Elliott with a shake of his head. “Nothing that I can think of. That’s pretty much all that I know but even that is more than you’ll get from anyone not in the Order, I think.”

  “Alright. You gave me enough. I’ll let you live,” Elliott winked at the man.

  “And my family?”

  “I’m a man of my word. I’ll have them brought to you and afterwards, you can choose whether you’ll stay with me or you want to go somewhere else entirely, as long as it’s not back to the Empire. But know that if you mention your dealings with me or betray me in any way, your life is forfeit. I will find you.

  “For now though, you’re coming with us,” Elliott said as he stood, Isabel following his lead.

  “To where?” Parek asked, standing also. He was a couple of inches shorter than both Elliott and Isabel.

  Elliott nodded towards the dungeon entrance.

  Parek turned his head to follow Elliott’s gaze, keeping his eyes on the swirling rainbow colours.

  “You won’t be able to enter.”

  “Why?”

  “You’re too strong,” Parek replied, turning back to them. Elliott gestured with his head to Isabel.

  “Go on,” Elliott said to Parek, who glanced as Isabel sped past him towards the wide marble stairs that led up to the entrance with Elsie perched on her shoulder.

  “When we arrived here and found it was a dungeon, the Order reported back to their superiors. A man and a woman arrived later the same evening. When I saw them, I had the same feeling that I do standing in front of you – they were powerful. Powerful beyond just being Starforged. I think they were Disciples. They tried to enter but couldn’t, so, they gathered three hundred of the strongest Adamantite soldiers among the Order and sent them in instead before returning to Mahricia.”

  Elliott chuckled. Parek raised an eyebrow.

  “If they’re as powerful as you say they are, you didn’t wonder why the Order would send such powerful people for this dungeon? Are you sure there are no gods?”

  Parek frowned a little.

  “I thought they were being cautious. You can’t really know what’s inside a dungeon until you go in. Why not send your strongest? Besides, no-one has seen the gods. There were plenty of stories about them but not anymore. It’s blasphemy to talk about them in the Empire…”

  He trailed off as Isabel returned. Elliott raised an eyebrow at her.

  “He’s partially right. I can’t enter,” Isabel said, standing a little to the side of Parek, her eyes on Elliott. If she couldn’t enter, it was unlikely that Elliott could.

  “But Elsie can,” Isabel continued, glancing to his sister.

  Elsie jumped up on Isabel’s shoulder, a wide smile on her pink lips as she looked at him with her adorable eyes and gave him a double thumbs up. Elliott took a deep breath. The deepest of breaths, as he closed his eyes and rubbed his temples.

  He opened his eyes to see his sister doing a little twirl and dance like she had a miniature hula hoop around her waist. Isabel was doing her best to hide a smile but she was failing.

  Elliott loved his sister.

  She was excellent at what she did.

  But he couldn’t send her into the dungeon alone.