THE BURIED GOD
Chapter 12: The Chamber of Bones
The tunnel opened into a chamber.
Damon had never seen this chamber before. It was not on the path to the heart. It was not on the path to the door. It was not on any path he knew.
The walls were made of bones.
Not human bones. Not animal bones. Something else. Something older. Something that had been buried for centuries.
The floor was made of bones too. Thousands of them. Millions. Stacked and arranged in patterns that hurt to look at.
And at the center of the chamber, a figure.
Not a priest.
Not a guard.
A woman.
She was young — younger than Vespera, younger than Lyssa, younger than anyone had a right to be. Her hair was white, her skin was pale, her eyes were silver.
She was wearing a robe of gray silk.
Her hands were folded in her lap.
She was waiting.
“Hello, gravedigger,” she said. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
Damon raised his shovel.
“Who are you?”
The woman smiled.
It was not a kind smile.
“I am the one who came before. The first priestess. The one who buried the god.”
“You’re dead.”
“I was. I am. I will be. Time has no meaning here.”
“Then why are you here?”
The woman stood.
Her robe pooled around her feet like smoke.
“To warn you.”
“Warn me about what?”
The woman walked toward him.
Her bare feet made no sound on the bones.
“You cannot kill the god. You cannot bury him. You cannot seal him. He is part of the mountain. Part of the world. Part of the hunger.”
“Then how do we stop him?”
The woman stopped in front of him.
Her silver eyes were wet.
“You don’t. You become him.”
Damon’s blood went cold.
“Become him?”
“The god needs a vessel. A living vessel. Someone to hold his power. Someone to carry his hunger. Someone to feed.”
“Like Vespera?”
The woman shook her head.
“Vespera is the key. The key cannot be the vessel. The key must open the door.”
“Then who?”
The woman looked at him.
” You.”