Chapter 46: Dinner
Lan followed behind the red-robed figure in silence, boots echoing softly against the smooth, worn stone.
The passage was carved into the hillside, a corridor of old bones and dark carvings, its walls lit with sconces that held purple flame instead of fire. The air reeked incense and iron—old blood masked by perfume.
Venom walked just behind him, silent but alert, one hand resting near the handle of his weapon.
"This way, please," the red-cloaked man said, his tone ever calm, ever pleasant.
The corridor widened gradually, opening into the main hall of the Ash Tongue base—though "temple" was the more fitting term.
Massive black pillars rose to the vaulted ceiling, each etched with inscriptions in a jagged script. Stone altars lined the walls, littered with melted candles, bones, and small tokens soaked in what could only be dried blood.
Stained glass filtered moonlight into red and gold across the black tile floors. At the far end, a wide ceremonial drape hung, its center depicting a god with no face, surrounded by kneeling worshipers with bleeding mouths.
"I go by Thread," the red-cloaked man said suddenly, his voice cutting through the tension. "I am the head of the Ash Tongues."
"Quite a fancy gang you’re running here," Lan replied, his eyes scanning everything—every exit, every possible ambush point.
"We are gangsters," Thread said, "not animals. Even wolves honor ritual."
He turned, gesturing toward an ornate side corridor. "Come. Let’s talk as civilized men."
Lan nodded slightly and followed, his cloak trailing behind him. They passed beneath archways with symbols that pulsed faintly with mana, and the temperature shifted from cold stone to a strange warmth—almost like flesh.