The Great Temple of Sanctum was normally quiet and filled with the scent of smelling salts. Today, it smelled like a slaughterhouse.
Mirabelle and Revas got out of the carriage and saw chaos. Thousands of people crowded the temple gates, crying, praying, and shouting.
"The Gods are dying!" a woman shrieked, tearing at her hair. "The statues bleed! The end is nigh!"
Revas looked over the panicked crowd and adjusted his gloves.
"They are so dramatic," he said, his tone dry. "I only made the statues weep a little blood. A few gallons, maybe. You'd think I tore the sky apart."
"To them, you did," Mirabelle said, keeping her head high. "Look."
Inside the open temple doors, the huge marble statues of the Six Divinities stood fifty feet tall. Normally bright white, they now looked terrifying. Thick red liquid ran from their stone eyes, soaking their robes and gathering on the altar floor. It wasn't just a trick; the stone itself seemed to bleed.
"Let's go say hello to the High Priest," Mirabelle said.
As they moved through the crowd, people pulled back. It wasn't only because of who she was, but also because of the way Revas carried himself. He walked with a slow, confident stride, and the crowd moved aside as if they sensed danger.
Inside the temple, Father Malachi was standing on the pulpit, his red robes stained with the "holy blood" he had been trying to clean up.
"It is her!" Malachi screamed, pointing a shaking finger as Mirabelle entered the nave. "The Witch has returned from the Abyss! She brings the curse! The Gods weep because an abomination walks on holy ground!"
The congregation, made up mostly of nobles and lower priests, turned to glare at Mirabelle. Fear was quickly turning into anger and a mob mood.
"Seize her!" Malachi bellowed. "Burn the witch to appease the Gods!"
Two temple guards hesitated, then stepped forward.
"Oh, for pity's sake," Revas sighed.
He didn't attack them or even look at them. He just walked past Mirabelle and went to the first weeping statue, the Goddess of Mercy.
Revas reached up. He dipped his index finger into the stream of blood flowing from the statue's eye.
The room went silent. To touch the Divine Idols was a death sentence.
Revas touched his finger to his mouth and tasted the blood. He hummed, a thoughtful sound that echoed in the high ceiling.
"Iron," Revas announced, his voice carrying effortlessly. "Salt. And... sorrow."
He turned to face the crowd, his violet eyes flashing.
"You fools," he laughed softly. "Do you think the Gods weep because a girl survived? Do you think they cry because of her?"
He pointed a long, accusatory finger at Malachi.
"They weep because of you."
Malachi spluttered. "Me? I am the Voice of Sanctum!"
"You are a liar in a fancy dress," Revas countered, walking slowly toward the pulpit. "The Gods are crying because for years, you accepted bribes to spare the daughters of the rich from the sacrifice. You sent the poor, the unwanted, and the 'spares' to the Abyss, while the true choices stayed warm in their beds."
Mirabelle stepped forward, taking control of the moment Revas had created.
"The Guardian of the Abyss told me everything," she lied, her voice ringing with icy authority. "He told me the Gods are disgusted. They don't want my blood. They want the truth."
"Lies!" Malachi shrieked. "She consorts with demons!"
Revas reached the pulpit and now stood over the priest."Demon?" Revas asked, smiling his gentlemanly, terrifying smile. "That is a very harsh word, Father. I prefer 'Auditor'."
Revas placed his hand on the wooden pulpit.
CRACK.
Black lines spread from his fingers, running through the wood. The strong oak pulpit creaked and fell apart into dust in seconds, leaving Malachi standing alone and shaking.
"If I were a demon," Revas whispered, leaning down so his face was inches from the priest's, "I would rip your tongue out and feed it to the crows. But I am a merciful Guardian."
Revas glanced at the statue behind Malachi.
"Show them," Revas commanded the stone.
It was a trick of ventriloquism and dark magic, but to the crowd, it looked like the statue listened to him. The blood from the statue's eyes stopped, and then the liquid changed from red to clear water.
Someone shouted from the back. "The Guardian cleansed the tears!"
"He speaks for the Gods!" another cried.
Revas winked at Mirabelle. They had convinced everyone.
Mirabelle walked up the steps to the altar and stood next to Revas. She looked down at Malachi, who was cowering on the floor.
"The Gods have forgiven the city," Mirabelle declared. "But they have not forgiven the priesthood."
She looked at the crowd.
"I am the Saintess of the Abyss. I have returned to purge the corruption. Anyone who stands against me... stands against the Heavens."
She looked down at Malachi. "Get up, Father. You have a lot of cleaning to do."
Malachi scrambled backward, terrified. "You... you are..."
"I am the Princess you tried to kill," Mirabelle whispered, so only he could hear.
Revas stepped in, offering his hand to help the priest up. But when he gripped Malachi's hand, he squeezed. He squeezed until the bones ground together.
"Smile, Father," Revas hissed, his eyes glowing red for a split second. "The Saintess just saved your life. If you speak against her again...I will turn your blood to acid while it's still inside your veins."
Malachi nodded frantically, tears of pain streaming down his face. "Yes... yes... Saintess."
Revas let go of him. He turned to the crowd and spread his arms wide, as if finishing a performance.
"Let us pray!" Revas shouted joyfully. "For the return of the Princess! And for the mercy of the abyss!"
As the crowd fell to their knees in chaotic worship, Revas leaned toward Mirabelle.
"I have to say," he murmured as he watched the people bow. "I'm kind of liking this religion thing."
"We control the Temple now," Mirabelle said quietly. "Step two is complete."