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. Each face was
marred by decay, with peeling flaps of flesh and loosely
hanging skin. Hair sprouted from the scalps of many; the
pates of others gleamed as pure white bone.
"Who were they?" I cried. "Where did you find them?"
"They came to me!" Shrill triumph rang in the priest's
voice. His words were addressed to the heavens, and it
seemed that I overheard him as a mere eavesdropper.
"You tricked them, then killed them," I challenged
him.
"They understood!" Erasmoth's voice hissed. "They
offered their souls to the god! The god claimed them, and
then gave them to me as slaves."
I noticed suddenly one of the zombies wore a black
eye-patch covering one of its dead orbs. It all seemed some
hideous joke, but I recognized, by that sign only, for his
face was ravaged by decay, Tyrol Deet!
"This is your miracle?" I gasped, appalled. "The secret
of undeath!"
"Approach the altar!" commanded Erasmoth. He
reached to push me, but I avoided his shoving hand.
Kassandry took my arm, surprising me with the
gentleness of her touch. I looked at her face, now so close to
mine, and saw nothing but the rapture of one who believes
she has found a greater truth. She paid no attention to me,
save for the slight pressure of her grip upon my arm. Her
bright eyes remained focused on the far side of the cave.
As if on command, fires surged upward from several of
the great basins in the cavern, and for the first time I
received a more accurate picture of this dreadful temple. It
was monstrous, Excellency
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