Every hair on the surface of his skin erected. He stared at her, with eyes wide and his breath in his throat, but she continued her steady, slumbering respire as if she hadn’t uttered a word.
He carefully pulled his arm out from beneath her head and withdrew, freshly determined for this to end. He pulled his cloak over his shoulders, swooping down to kiss her on the cheek. With his finger, he signed over her head the same sigil his father once traced on his own chest. “Nothing shall harm her this night,” he firmly petitioned the gods. He reached under his bedside table for his knife, securing it tightly to his thigh. Then without another moment’s hesitation, he slipped into the torchless hallway. He passed the darkened rooms of his fellow slaves, all asleep before the fast-approaching dawn. He crept down the corridor, resolved not to wake a soul, when his ears suddenly caught the sound of shuffling. “Who is there?” he whispered harshly into the void.
There was no response.
He squinted into the shadows, as the few lone torches that still burned ineffectively availed him sight.
The hallway remained silent.
He continued his muted pace back towards the guest chambers, near where Moira’s remains lay. It was the easiest way to pass unnoticed out of the villa, the only route free from the watchful eyes of the guards stationed around the villa’s perimeter. Davius observed that although the priests had long departed, the aroma of precious spices still lingered in the air. A white sheet had been draped over the doorway to her room, and it now rippled in the evening breeze.
The rustling sound came once more, this time from inside the room. Davius unsheathed his knife, his nerves moistening the handle as he tightened his fist around it. He saw no sign of Eridus behind the curtain, but didn’t want to chance frightening a man in mourning. He approached the doorway cautiously, waiting until the wind lifted the curtain enough to reveal what it concealed.
A brief flicker exposed a bulky shadow hunched over Moira's body.
Davius tore the sheet from the doorway, startling a creature who moved effortlessly despite its great size. It turned to behold the intruder, its eyes glowing fiery red. Black clouds of smoke swirled about its form, obscuring its face completely, save for fangs that glinted menacingly in the dim candlelight.
It hissed at him. You have come to disturb me, Great One? It did not speak aloud, rather its voice echoed in his mind.
Davius stared, unable to respond.
It snorted. I do not see what makes you so great. You reek of human weakness. The girl is already dead, do you intend to use that knife to protect her? It laughed, thoroughly amused with its joke.
“Leave this place,” Davius demanded, finally able to find resolve.
As you wish, O Great One. See you soon. The shapeless mass threw itself out the window, disappearing into the night, a billowing cloud of smoke trailing behind it.
Moira’s body had been left undisturbed, but her expression was twisted into a tight grimace. Davius went over to her, swathing her in her fallen dressings as he gathered his wits about him.
“For you...for Gaia,” he whispered to her before he lunged out of the window, landing onto the dewy grass below. He tore after the creature, his muscular limbs easily catching speed. The waxing moon cast its glow down on him as he ran, illuminating his path. The cool summer air bit his lungs, but he welcomed it, letting her winds revive him, empower him. He reached the city within moments.
The dead hour of morning had left the forum barren. It looked oddly exposed and skeletal, deprived of the hundreds of vendor carts that regularly congested its streets. A few torches were sparingly ignited, offering meager lighting to drunkards, thieves, and other night crawlers. Davius avoided them by keeping off the main road, skillfully cutting through the alleys. Although he had not been able to find the temple before, it called to him now, guiding him past Rome’s magnificent edifices into the desolate part of town.
At last, the mysterious building appeared, nestled behind two derelict structures that were no longer able to maintain shape. The ascending moss of the temple had finally claimed its prize, barely a patch of stone visible from where he stood. A dim light smoldered from within, betraying any attempt at secret occupancy.
He swallowed down his last residual bit of fear, preparing himself for battle. He slipped passed the once impressive façade of Ionic pillars to the rear, his heart drumming relentlessly in his ears. Upon closer inspection, he saw several candles were lit inside, the windows barred with planks of wood and draped with heavy curtains. The arrangement was undoubtedly human, his disbelief mounting as he discovered graceful statues and furnished couches leaning against the temple’s frescoed walls.
He frowned, uncertain what to do next.
“May I help you?” A voice startled him.
It was a man, hidden in the darkness.
“Forgive me,” Davius stammered. “Forgive me—I did not—”
“Would you like to come in?” The figure pulled open a makeshift wooden door, gesturing him inside. “Please. Do come in.”
Davius found he could do nothing else but follow.
The inside of the temple greeted him with warmth. Scented oil lamps perfumed the air as a small fire crackled inside an old fireplace. The majority of the plant growth had been scrubbed away from the inner walls, the dirt floors laid with fresh planks of pine and covered with ornate rugs. The faded images painted on the walls appeared otherworldly in the flickering firelight.
“You seem familiar with this place.” The man’s face was clearer now, yet carefully obscured by shadow. Davius made out pale skin against long black curls that cascaded down his back. He wore a luxuriously crafted toga which swallowed his very tall, thin frame in fabric. He gave him a warm smile, his teeth unusually bright. “I am Lucius,” he offered, neglecting any other customary Roman titles.
“Davius,” he managed. “I was looking for a—I am dreadfully sorry. I am nothing more than a common slave. I belong to a man named Eridus and I really must be going back now...”
“A slave?” The man who called himself Lucius sat down on one of his couches, as if he knew Davius would inevitably join him. Davius was struck by how he walked, his movements fluid and graceful, almost serpentine. “The way you look at the walls of my home, one would think you were an artist,” he remarked.
Davius was taken aback by the words, nearly laughing at the absurdity of how accurate the stranger’s intuition was. “I assure you, kind sir, I am merely a slave. I really must return to my master.” He moved back towards the door.
“What brings you to my humble dwelling?” Lucius asked, unwilling to accept his polite departure.
Davius blinked away the image of the inky creature huddled over Moira’s body. “It was an honest mistake, truly…”
“Were you hunting?” He tilted his head towards the knife still clenched in Davius’s hand.
He lost his words once more, unable to construct a passable lie.
Lucius laughed, softly. “Do not fear me, young one. I am a soothsayer of sorts. I know why you have come, but I cannot help you find the beast you search for.”
Davius squinted to make out his features. He distrusted this strange man, but found he was profoundly intrigued. The exotic beauty of his decor revealed that he was a traveler of foreign lands, yet his disposition was comfortably Roman, his words lacking any unusual accent. He’d heard of soothsayers from his visits to the forum; the most noted being the advisor to Caesar, whom he kept housed away from commoners at his personal dwellings. Save for him, the word usually carried a disconcerting stigma and wasn’t used freely.
“I have made you uncomfortable,” Lucius observed. “Please, sit down. I promise you are welcome here, regardless of your status.” An elongated arm that ended with narrow fingers gestured towards a nearby couch.
Reluctant, Davius sat.
“I do apologize if I have frightened you. As you might guess, I have grown accustomed to solitude. A late-night visitor does provoke inquiry, but I am sure you were not prepared to discuss the mythological so quickly.” He reached behind him, procuring a decanter and an opaque goblet. “May I offer you some wine?”
As much as Davius could have used an elixir to steady his nerves, he respectfully declined.
