Page 74 of Of Shadows and Blood

The Gods are vain but none so like Him. From inception, he created us so that our kind would demand respect.

Temple day, at its core, is one of the most sacred holy days. It is a monthly religious event that all who fall below Erees attend. Erees, our sole God, has blessed the damned with so many gifts and strengths. It would be a great dishonor not to spend a day of worship at our temple.

Or so Jett tells me.

The temple, located in the woods just outside the castle grounds, is a masterpiece of architecture. No one is quite sure of its exact age, but it predates the past three generations of ruling vampyr, which equates to about three thousand years. King Martine, the founder of Lux and Cedric’s grandsire, built it when Demis was constructed. With intertwining spires, iron cast to meet in symmetrical curved peaks along the roof like a rib cage, it is the purest reflection of darkness. The upkeep this building would need to stay pristine does not pass me, but they also have magic.

As do I.

Rows and rows of pews fill with various members of the court, nobles, merchants, courtiers. The cavern inside is modest but the worshippers are not. Erees apparently appreciates the sentiment. A half-pew in the back filled with a small family is the only place I can sit.

“Here,” the mother whispers. She helps her young child pass me a small book of hymns, the red binding worn with use. “Thank you,” I grin back and the boy giggles and shoves his face into his mother’s side. She simply winks back before turning to her husband.

The organs start, followed by the sound of the crowd standing, their shifting silks and murmurs. The song is slow and deep, building and swelling like a cascading wave. Beside me, the intricately carved wooden double doors swing open next to my form, hiding me wholly from the aisle. I chuckle softly and stand.

He begins his walk, focusing on each step that drags the excessively long cape. The details are hard to make out but the fabric is a deep shade of plum; threads of gold and silver cause it to twinkle. A picture is woven in red thread, but I can’t make it out from here. Heads bow one by one as Cedric treads the aisle, holding his head and crown high. The flickering candles and their melted wax light the path.

He grips a sceptre in his left hand, his right holding a glass orb filled with blood. The silver-and-gold sceptre catches the light of various candles around the space. How many generations of rulers have held this staff in the same position as he does today?

The mother near me opens the hymn book for her son and begins explaining the temple’s formalities. “Okay poppet, remember our lesson? At the base of the aisle is Arch Gerard, the presiding keeper of Erees. He leads our temple but he serves King Cedric and the royal family. He’s very old – no one knows how old. But the Arch has presided over all Bloodrites, temple sermons and other duties for two generations past.”

Which would make him at least two thousand years old.

“Mama, he’s scary.” The boy turns his face into her shoulder and she giggles while rubbing his head. “I know, poppet.”

Goosebumps raise on my arms as I take in his worn form on the dais. He smiles faintly, creasing near his eyes as Cedric approaches. With care, Cedric lowers onto both knees before Arch Gerard and presents the sceptre. The Arch practically floats forward and rests his spindly hand upon Cedric’s brow.

“Let darkness be with you,” he croaks.

“And with you,” he replies before rising and taking his seat just off center. The king is at the center of any temple, it appears.

“That position is held for Erees himself.” The mother points and her son looks up just briefly.

His throne, completely untouched, glimmers under the skylight overhead as twilight washes over the sky.

“One day he may return,” Gerard says and the crowd lifts their hand to their throat and makes a slicing motion before seating. I didn’t catch on fast enough to make that motion but as rows lower down and the doors close, I become acutely aware of the eyes upon me. Heads turn over shoulders before turning to each other in whisper.

Before I can try to tune in, the organ picks up again and the crowd opens their hymnals and begins to sing. The mother next to me quickly flicks mine open to the correct chorus and I nod in thanks. The song tells a story of the Gods’ first war after Erees created his beloved vampyr.

Reason could not defeat the sweet sickle of mis—

Trust in the darkness of His abyss

For what creation underneath

Is wrong when it was from He?

Arch Gerard leads the ceremonies after that, occasionally referring to Cedric and thanking Erees for a powerful and just leader. His line has been chosen by Erees to rule. Few have tried to contest the family name, but Cedric’s has stood unfaltering.

Up on the dais, he does not shift or look disinterested. His face, his mask, is unreadable. Cedric the king is a force never to be tried. Curling shadows pool around his feet – what are those? Did he let the leash loose for this event?

The second hymnal begins with a loud trumpet behind me, bringing me back to present. Cedric’s gaze flicks over to the left where there are rough marks on the floor in the shape of a chair or a table. The lyrics of this song enrapture me again, but my eyes can’t help but stay fixed on the dais. What was there before?

In the rolling cascade where He found purchase for the Made

That question never came again

When the misty shack wobbles before the holy He laid