THE BURIED GOD
Chapter 25: The Heart of Darkness
The darkness was absolute.
Damon could not see his hands. Could not see the walls. Could not see the floor. He could only feel — the cold stone beneath his boots, the cold air in his lungs, the cold hunger in his chest.
He walked forward.
His shovel scraped against the ground.
The sound echoed.
And then—
Light.
Not silver. Not pale. Not hungry.
Red.
Deep and dark, pulsing like a wound, bleeding like a heart.
The heart of the mountain.
The heart of the god.
The heart of the hunger.
It was massive.
Larger than any chamber. Larger than any room. Larger than any space had a right to be. The walls were made of stone, black and wet, slick with moisture that smelled of iron and old blood. The ceiling was lost in shadow, the floor lost in light.
And in the center, suspended by nothing, the heart.
Not a heart of flesh.
Not a heart of stone.
A heart of hunger.
It pulsed. Slowly. Steadily. Hungrily.
“He’s awake,” Vespera whispered.
“He’s dreaming,” Lyssa said.
“He’s waiting,” Rook said.
Damon looked at the heart.
At the pulse.
At the hunger.
“For what?”
“For you,” a voice said.
They turned.
The high priest stood behind them.
His crown of bones gleamed in the red light. His black robe trailed behind him like a river of blood. His silver eyes burned.
“The gravedigger. The key. The novice. The soldier. The ones who would destroy the god.”
“We came to bury him,” Damon said.
“You came to die.”
“We came to end this.”
“You cannot end this. The god is eternal. The mountain is eternal. The hunger is eternal.”
“Then we’ll make him sleep.”
The high priest smiled.
It was not a kind smile.
“He has slept long enough. He has waited long enough. He has hungered long enough.”
The high priest raised his hands.
The heart pulsed.
The ground shook.
The walls cracked.
“The time is coming. The hour is approaching. The sacrifice is ready.”
He looked at Vespera.
“The key.”
He looked at Damon.
“The vessel.”
He looked at Lyssa.
“The novice.”
He looked at Rook.
“The soldier.”
“You are all here. All together. All ready.”
“Ready for what?”
The high priest’s silver eyes blazed.
“To feed the god.”