Erador reached on the highest bookshelf and took down the white statue of Artorian, the light god, one of Loma’s favorites. Erador didn’t like him, not only because he provided light, which fueled the lurkers, but because Loma constantly referenced him. Artorian's light brought peace and goodness to the once dark and desolate world. With help from the other gods, the world came into balance, allowing life to flourish.

  For Erador, most of these tales went in one ear and out the other, but this one stuck. Probably because Loma talked about it too often as if she were trying to indoctrinate him into believing this is how their existence came to be.

  He held the statue at arm’s length, preferring to see Artorian’s perfectly chiseled face over Loma’s disapproving glances she gave every time she took a statue from him. She didn’t want him going into the realm, but she knew she couldn’t stop him.

  “Maybe someone you trust should come with you.” Loma took Artorian from him and set it on the table next to a few other statues.

  Erador took a rag from her harder than he meant to. He already tried to ask Dethil, but he turned his back on him. No one else cared.

  “Who can I trust?” Erador said, dusting the shelf.

  “Any Paradin,” Loma said. “I don’t like you doing this alone.”

  Erador jerked the rag across the wood. “I'll be fine.”

  “You’re not fine.” Loma planted her hand on her hip, eyeing his scars. “Look what it has done to you.”

  Erador welcomed the idea of death even when Shade's whining annoyed him. He saw no possible future outside Lucrethia. If he had to spend the rest of his life rotting in this manor, he didn’t want to live. At least Shade didn't have to worry about aging, just insanity. If he were lucky, maybe he’d get consumed by a larger lurker when he became whole.

  “Maybe it’s what I need,” Erador said. “If I’m dead, I won’t have to overcome anything.”

  “Erador,” Loma scolded. She dipped her cloth in a pan of water and whipped a statue. “Being dead is not the answer. You have a purpose.”

  “So does my father. His is to rot on his throne and let us suffer seeing it.”

  Loma glared. “Right now, his purpose is to keep us together.”

  “He’s doing a great job.” Erador walked to the table and threw the rag down. “The followers are giving up like they did years ago.”

  “Times are hard, but I’m sure they still think positively of your father.”

  Erador wished he could. Would he miss his father if he were gone? He wasn’t sure he would after everything his father had done to him. Judgment wouldn't have to face his wrongs when he died. He avoided it for so long as Judgment and as a dying man, but would anyone take him back as their god? Being Judgment didn’t mean he was clear of receiving it himself.

  “I'll find someone to go with you to the realm,” Loma said, cleaning the statues with meticulous care. “Someone I know you’ll get along with.”

  Erador tapped the table as he pressed his lips together. He would rather let her dream of finding the right person than argue. She’d been going on about this the entire time he helped her clean and they were only halfway done with her god statue collection. He was set on what he was going to do and do it alone. They would leave him like Aminria, be untrustworthy like Hawth, be on the fence like Eonidas, or switch sides like Dethil.

  He sighed, looking at Cade’s door. “What about Cade? He’s brave.”

  “And he can't move as fast,” Loma said, wringing water from her cloth. “Being brave only gets one so far.”

  He didn’t want to put Cade at risk, but he was the only one he trusted.

  “What about you?”

  “No, no, your father can’t find out I’m a part of this.”

  “Why?”

  She nodded at her collection on the table. Loma had already pushed her boundaries with her religious beliefs. Having her help him this closely with Yuni could be her last strike. Erador picked up one of the statues. He had an owl on the shoulder of his leafy robe like he belonged in nature.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  “What are your thoughts on the nature god?

  Loma aggressively dried a statue. “Since when do you care about Seniths?”

  “Just thought of it,” he said, holding out the statue.

  “There are two nature gods.” Loma took the statue from him. “This is Epheius, the nocturnal god. His sister, Sueina, is the diurnal goddess.”

  “What do you know about them?” he asked.

  Loma smiled, rubbing dust from Epheius's face. “He keeps to himself, doesn’t mingle with other gods. He created the animals and plants of the night.”

  Erador smiled. “I like him already.”

  Loma laughed, heartily.

  “Why haven’t you told me about him?” he asked.

  “I… never thought of it. Besides, you never took an interest.”

  “What about his sister?”

  Loma's mouth flattened as she stared at the wall. “He saved his sister and to repay him she tried to take his throne. She didn't get it and has been locked inside a tree. They say she's gone insane and speaks to dead plants.” Loma shook her head in shame as she placed a statue on the shelf.

  “I'm guessing you don’t have her,” Erador said.

  “No. She caused pain to us Harians.”

  He recalled the tale from his father’s book. “Vespers.”

  “I never talked about them.” Loma stopped arranging the statues. “How did you know?”

  “A book in the manor library. The flaws in the Senith Mythology and Religion.”

  “Oh... that one,” Loma grumbled. “You know that was used to convert people to your father’s religion.”

  “Yes,” Erador said, quickly dismissing the topic. “What are these vespers? Do you know anything about them?”

  Loma scrunched her face in painful concentration as if she were angry for forgetting. It wasn't like her not to remember a thing about the Seniths, but the stories ran much deeper than she could remember.

  “They have endless hunger for blood,” Erador said.

  “Oh, yes!” she said with an excited clap. “Epheius created the vespers to protect his realm. He made them violent and endlessly hungry, so if anyone stepped foot there, they would be drained of blood.”

  “They were violent when they came here?”

  “At first, but that didn't work when the vespers discovered how many of us there were,” Loma said. “So, they changed their strategy. They evolved to be cunning, deceiving, and hide their true form.”

  “They can be people? How can we tell who is a vesper?”

  “You can’t. They blend in.”

  Erador’s heart spiked at the idea of lurkers being able to walk among them. They could already mimic voices.

  “Do you believe in them?” he said.

  “I’ve never seen one, but... I think it’s possible they’re among us,” Loma whispered, examining a statue she pulled down.

  “You’re fine with that?”

  She raised her shoulders and walked past him to the table. “I don’t believe they’re as violent as they used to be. They’re probably more like Harians by now.”

  Erador cringed. “But they drink our blood.”

  “I think they’re more discreet than you think. They can get blood from animals.”

  “What about people? Do some like to drink blood?”

  Loma laughed.

  “What’s funny?”

  “You’re so naive.” She squeezed his cheek. “People do many things you’d have to see to believe.”

  Sometimes it was hard to imagine what he smelled in that bottle. But Yuni drank blood, not because she was a vesper, but because she was an outlier. That disturbed Erador more than a Senith beast of the night. Why did she drink blood, where did she get it, and would she want theirs? Could she want to get her hands on the Odinatin princess's blood?