Mads jolted as Graynard tugged the rope binding her hands. She glared at his broad back, but silently followed him out from behind piles of rusting metal and machinery. The air was hot and dusty, bitter with the stench of brimstone and tar, and the ground was covered in red dirt that seemed mixed with sand.

Mads stopped in surprise. How could all this be underground?

"Come on," snapped Graynard, pulling her ropes and moving toward a worn rock pathway that reappeared and disappeared in the chaos ahead.

Mads ignored him. Somehow, this was nothing like what she had expected Ga'naa to be like. Hundreds of people bustled about in what appeared to be an enormous underground market. The stalls were made from piles of crates and metal, and other unidentifiable debris. Vendors called out their wares in a mishmash of languages, many unfamiliar to Mads. She wondered how anyone could hear anything properly. They seemed to carry mainly dry foodstuffs and minor tech, but Mads saw hanging sides of meat and a few pallid live chickens as well.

Shoppers milled about, dressed in patched robes and simple trousers. Like in Springs Village, the people were a diverse rainbow of skin shades and colors, builds, and hair textures, though they all seemed a bit faded. Perhaps from centuries underground? Unlike in Springs Village, there was not a single nonhuman, or even a robotic. The hundreds of shoppers were undoubtedly humans. Graynard would stand out like a sunflower in a strawberry patch.

Mads finally shuffled forward, as Graynard apparently intended on giving her wrists rope-burn until she moved along. As they walked, she gazed up at the ceiling of the immense cavern, wondering at the rickety metal scaffolding high overhead, and at the many portholes and sewer entrances built into the natural stone. Some of them looked older than the shaft they had entered through. Many of them probably predated The End.

They made their way into the human stream, and Mads immediately noticed a shift in the noise about them. Graynard was given furtive looks, while Mads was mostly ignored, but people left a clear space around the grimy Atelian and his grimier "captive." Still, no one seemed too threatening, and they continued about their business.

Mads kept looking for the barely-human monsters she'd been imagining, but she didn't see anything more scandalous than a half-naked man with crude full-body bone tattoos. That was a bit shocking, but she had seen much stranger things in her shop during tourist season. But he still looked like a person, despite the terribly crooked skull tattooed over his gaunt face.

By the time they made it across the giant space, Mads' wrists were officially sore. Graynard seemed tense, and Mads wondered if it went deeper than his plan, or even the fact that he was an obvious outsider. She couldn't shake the feeling that he was hiding something important from her. Not that this was surprising, but it did unsettle her.

After being kidnapped, she'd immediately identified Luc as the unstable, dangerous one, but she was wondering if she'd had it all wrong. Graynard had seemed almost nice, thoughtful at times, and resistant to violence, but he'd never condemned Luc, and Mads hadn't seen what the Atelian had been doing when they were apart. She'd never sensed anything other than disinterested goodwill towards herself, but now he seemed different. Not hostile. Not sinister. Just different. What if he planned to leave her here?

No, Mads banished the thought. She couldn't afford to doubt him right now.

A few minutes later, Graynard stopped at the cavern wall, where there was a giant metal door fit into the stone. The door was intricately engraved with several tableaus. Mads leaned forward to see them while keeping an ear on Graynard's conversation with the two large men who guarded the door.

"A gift for Andhera." Graynard was saying, in response to a hostile challenge from the men.

Mads kept her eyes on the door. The carvings depicted a beautiful woman with hip length hair, outstretched arms, and a voluptuous body barely concealed by her robes. Mads did not approve of the woman's near-nakedness or her hungry expression, especially once Mads noticed the carvings below. Gory, explicitly carved tableaus of stylized murder and mayhem, and then the woman again, with hordes of people kneeling at her feet, their hands filled with heads, arms, corpses, and worse, offered as gifts.

Andhera, I presume, Mads shivered. She had a bad, bad feeling about this door.

"You are not one of Andhera's chosen," one of the guards muttered, and he stepped closer to Graynard, distracting Mads from the carvings.

"I cannot help that I was born unclean, but I can choose who I worship," said Graynard, sounding a little proud, and a little reverent. "Andhera, lady of life and death, born out of chaos, and ruler of the pits, I have pledged myself to her service."

Mads winced at the sincerity in Graynard's voice. He was, Mads realized, a rather fine actor himself. He seemed so sincere, and she didn't know if she could sense a trace of his duplicity, or if she saw it because she wanted it to be there. A chill pricked the back of her neck. She should never have agreed to this plan.

Graynard's words apparently affected the guards as well, for they grudgingly opened the door. Mads stole a glance at them as she passed, and realized that they were wearing bone armor similar to what Luc had worn, only the bones were newer looking. Mads tried to keep her gaze down, remembering what Luc had said about looking in their eyes, and then the door clanged shut behind them.

"What was that about?" she muttered, as Graynard tugged her down the stone passage.

"Hush. You have to know how to speak to them," he hissed. "Now shut up."

Mads glowered at his back, but she quickened her pace.

The stone passageway was rough and uneven, as if it had been carved by ancient tools. The lights on the walls were filled with a burning black substance, not electric, and the smoke hurt Mads' eyes.

Gradually, the passage widened, becoming several passages, and they finally ran into more of the guards. These two also wore bone vests over long red robes that brushed the tops of their bare feet. Their pale skin was as smooth as sculpted marble, with not a hair in sight – even their eyebrows had been shaved. They didn't speak, they just regarded Mads and Graynard with eyes that glittered in the smoky light.

Graynard stepped forward and bowed, tugging Mads down with him. "Honorable Brothers of the Blood, I bring a gift for Andhera." He gestured to Mads with his free hand. "I am a penitent here to make atonement for my unfortunate birth. Will the goddess allow me free passage?"

Mads shivered, though the air was stuffy and hot.

It was a moment before the guards answered, and when they did, they spoke in perfect unison. "The goddess will allow you to pass." They stepped aside, also in tandem. "All hail the goddess Andhera," they droned, their eyes never blinking once.

"All hail," said Graynard, and he dragged Mads past them without another word. This passage ended in another giant cavern, but a much calmer one. Robed devotees milled about, ignoring Graynard and Mads completely. The walls had many woven hangings, rough work that depicted more scenes of a gruesome and bloody nature.

"This way." Graynard tugged Mads to a small table at the side of the room, where a red-robed woman was writing on a skin of some sort.

She looked up when they approached, and Mads saw that she was quite young and pretty, with blue eyes and corn-colored hair. "Welcome to Ga'naa, pilgrim," said the woman, addressing Graynard. "You are just in time, as the sacrifices begin tonight. Your offering is acceptable."

Graynard bowed low. "Blessings upon you, sister. I seek only to be instructed.

Sacrifices tonight? Mads gave Graynard an alarmed look, but he was still bowing to the woman.

The woman watched him, her blue gaze cold and calculating, but then she smiled. "You should make your way to the temple. The priestesses will be waiting to receive your penance," said the woman, holding out a small stone bowl. "Take this to them. As the Goddess wills."

"Let it be so," replied Graynard, taking the bowl with another bow. The woman went back to her writing, which meant they were dismissed. She hadn't given Mads a single glance.

Graynard walked toward the edge of the room, heading for an open doorway on the right side. He walked like someone who knew where he was going. He did say that Luc had given him a map, but why had Mads been so ready to believe he hadn't been down here before? How could she have been so stupid?

Mads kept examining her surroundings as they walked, searching for an escape, and something to fight with. She was not going to be sacrificed, that was certain.

Graynard continued to ignore her, and Mads didn't want to waste her only advantage: everyone was ignoring her. It was as if she weren't there at all. But still, she studied the shape of his robes from the back, trying to visualize where she'd seen him hide guns and other dangerous objects.

They were forced to stop in the next room, and Mads recognized the guards' armor. It was just like Luc's. She shot them both a furtive glance, Don't look into their eyes, that would draw too much attention, but neither of them were Luc. For some reason, Mads found she was disappointed.

"An offering for the goddess, I was sent to bring this to the temple." Graynard held up the small bowl he'd been given, and dropped down to present it to the guards.

Mads smirked, her head bowed as well. Seeing Graynard subservient, even insincere, was a bit humorous. She preferred being angry and amused to being frightened, so she let herself enjoy watching him grovel before the guards.

"Take her to the temple. The priestesses will receive her." The speaker paused. "Or not. As the goddess wills."

The other guard cut in before Graynard could reply, "If your offering is unacceptable, you will be proven false to Andhera, and you will both die. Do you understand?"

Mads looked up, startled, and saw the faintest trace of surprise on Graynard's face. She also saw a drop of sweat trickle down the side of his forehead, disappearing into his right beard. This didn't make her feel better at all.

"As the goddess wills," said Graynard, but his voice lacked both the conviction and the strength of before.

The guards stepped aside, their movements fluid and soundless. Luc would fit right in.

Mads kept her head down as she passed, and she tried to stop herself from trembling. She couldn't afford to be weak, or afraid. Alan was close, and Mads intended to see him again. She just needed to be patient, and not act rashly.

This cavern was smaller, with a pool of clear, steaming water, and a floor covered in red dirt. There was a pathway in front of them, lined with tar, but with a mosaic of stones, depicting, unsurprisingly, skulls and bones.

I officially hate this place, thought Mads, as Graynard jerked her to a halt at the steps to the towering temple gate.

The gate was blacker than space, built entirely from volcanic rock, by the look of it. Bronze censers stood round it, holding the oily lights and lending their smoke to the already steaming, sour air. The door was also bronze, engraved with the terrifying but beautiful image of Andhera. In this picture, the goddess held one arm up, as if suggesting a halt, one arm extended in welcome, and at her waist hung dripping severed heads.

Delightful. Mads looked away from the image to the guards waiting silently a few feet in front of them.

Two women, wearing similar robes to Mads, but with the addition of bone armor, stood at the doorway, and they both held spears, wicked tips glinting in the soft light.

"This is it," said Graynard, so softly that Mads almost thought she'd imagined it. "Wait for my signal."

Mads blinked, panicked. "What's your signal?"

"You'll know." He approached the steps, dragging her along, holding out the small bowl and the end of her rope.

Neither of the women moved until Graynard was on the bottom step. Then they both turned, effectively blocking the door and crossing their spears in front of it, settling them in holders that were apparently there for that purpose. 

The rightmost woman descended the steps, slowly, her robes whispering against the stone. Her feet were bare and pallid, almost blue. Like a corpse. Her face, shrouded in a hood, was just as thin and colorless, but her eyes were dark and bright, fixed on Graynard.

Graynard sank to his knees, resting his large bulk on the steps, his forehead nearly against the woman's bony bare feet. He looked, for the first time, like a true penitent.

Mads, her stomach in knots, refused to kneel, or even bow her head. Instead, she met the woman's gaze with a determined frown, her head erect with pride.

To her surprise, the woman's pale lips lifted slightly. "You bring me a pure sacrifice as proof of your devotion, penitent?" Her eyes were on Mads, but she was obviously addressing the Atelian. "You swear that you have kept her away from the stain of men, that she is pure for the goddess?"

Mads felt her cheeks flush, this is barbaric, and mortifying, but she kept her chin up, hoping the woman could see her defiance.

Graynard nodded, lifting the rope and the bowl without looking up.

The woman finally glanced at him, and her expression softened to something motherly, though the Atelian was at least twice her age. "Come, child of Andhera, we will test your heart." She accepted the rope and the bowl with pale, spindly hands, the blue of her veins visible as she passed the objects to her silent companion. Mads hadn't even heard the second woman descend the steps.

And then the first woman bent down and took Graynard's large, six-fingered right hand, drawing a sharp knife from her belt at the same time.

Mads almost cried out, but it was too swift: the woman sliced Graynard's thumb open and swept the blade in an arc, spattering drops of deep navy Atelian blood. She then proceeded to smear some of his blood in the bowl and added the rope.

The second woman took the bowl and headed to Mads, holding it aloft. "Hold this," she said, thrusting the bowl into Mads' bound hands.

Mads found it was hard to keep her hands cupped, they felt too cold and stiff, as if they had been bound for hours.

This woman was a little older, and there were gray streaks in her dark hair. Her eyes were the color of melted chocolate, and she looked like she was staring into Mads' mind.

Mads frowned back at her, forcing every thought out of her head, and focusing on coffee. These were human women, not unearthly monsters, so there was a good chance they would like coffee too, if they ever tried it. Mads saw it then, as she relaxed, and she smiled in surprise. "You're a medium vanilla latte with a touch of fresh raspberry and whipped cream. I never would have suspected."

The woman blinked at Mads, as if shaken, and her lovely eyes narrowed. "You bring us a raving idiot, and think that is appropriate for the goddess?" Her voice was soft, rich, but lethal.

"Hardly," answered the other woman, still holding out her bloody knife. "This is a test."

Mads blinked, trying to figure out how talking about coffee made her a "raving idiot." Unless . . . "You've never heard of coffee, have you?" asked Mads, shocked. "I'm so sorry."

Both women stared at her, their expressions as confused as if she'd suddenly sprouted a second head. Mads looked at the first woman, and so she was startled when a moment later, the second woman sliced Mads' palm open. It happened so fast, Mads hardly saw her draw a second knife.

Mads gasped, but the woman already had her hand pressed into the bowl, her arm in a lock, and the woman's brown eyes were no longer warm as she gazed at Mads over their joined hands.

The woman stepped back, and handed the bowl to her companion, who stirred it with the first knife.

Mads clenched her fist against her smarting palm and scowled. This was ludicrous. Thinking about coffee wasn't making her feel better anymore.

The two women murmured something in unison, maybe a prayer, maybe an incantation, and they peered into the bowl. Mads was left to stand, her hand dripping, ignored.

Graynard looked up and shot Mads a furious glare. His face was so tight with rage that she thought he might be close to bursting a blood vessel. She took a step back, and loose blood spattered onto the steps by her feet.

The first woman turned and poured the blood on the steps before Graynard could speak. "Penitent, the goddess accepts your sacrifice. Return to the sanctum and they will find you a place to wash and rest. Await further instructions there. You are not allowed to attend the sacrifices, but Andhera acknowledges your gift."

Graynard rose with a heavy sigh. He bowed once to the women, and then turned, walking past Mads without looking at her again, but she could feel the anger rolling off of him.

"Later," he whispered, just as he'd passed her by, and then he was gone.

Mads gulped, trying to look brave as the two women flanked her. Bad feeling was an understatement.

"This is a great honor – to be one of Andhera's attending maidens forever," said the first woman, the one with colorless skin. Her tone was softer now, as if she wanted to comfort Mads.

Corpse lady, filled in Mads brain, just to have something to call the woman.

The other woman, the one who'd sliced Mads' palm, pointed to the door with her bloody knife. "This way. The goddess awaits."

Slicer, it was all Mads could come up with right now.

"Come," said Corpse lady. "It is an honor," she repeated.

"If it's such an honor," said Mads, falling into step in between them. "Why don't you two do it?"

Corpse lady gave her an appraising look. "You do not need your tongue to serve the goddess." She lifted her knife, just a little, but her point was obvious.

Mads closed her mouth and stared straight ahead. She was sick of being dragged around by crazy people. But she didn't want to lose her tongue.

The women escorted her into the temple, where they led Mads through dark passageways and sinister, empty rooms, past pairs of other women. They had reached a small room before Mads realized that she'd seen no men at all.

"This is where you will seek penance and favor from the goddess while you wait." Corpse lady smiled, and her lips stretched too thin over her surprisingly yellow teeth. "Don't worry, the offerings will begin soon." Her pale hand almost glowed as she waved at the dark room beyond. "Farewell."

Mads shivered, and looked at Slicer instead. Slicer's eyes gleamed in the lamplight as she added, "You are blessed to be so near the goddess." Then she shoved Mads into the room and shut the door, locking her into a small space with no windows and no furniture, and no light.

Mads slowly dropped to the floor, hugging her knees to her chest and trying to ignore her growing despair. How was she going to get out of this? She had her hands free of the ropes in moments, but there was nowhere to go. She couldn't see, and she was starting to feel like she couldn't breathe. Her wrists and cut hand hurt, and it was still bleeding a bit. Mads tangled it in her skirt and sat on it, hoping the cut wasn't too deep. It throbbed with her pulse, and she closed her eyes and thought about The Shop.

She could almost smell coffee, almost see the warm lights and the friendly faces of customers. She should have never given that com back to Graynard, she should have insisted on keeping it. Mads felt tears prickle her eyes, and she blinked them away. She wasn't going to cry. And she wasn't going to die here. She couldn't.

Mads squeezed her eyes shut and made a vow to herself. She was going to help Krill find her dream guy, and prove to Alan that she could take care of everything by herself, she was going to be successful, and make enough money to continue the shop. She was going to acquire an heir, whether by marriage or adoption, and guarantee that her shop and farm and legacy continued.

She was Madeleine Capot, the last barista, and she was not going to be sacrificed in a hole.

https://youtu.be/LWz0JC7afNQ