Auren didn't know what the creature had done to gouge a hole into the desert sand with its agonizing cry—and he prayed he'd never find out.
Pray to whom? He'd rather kneel before missing gods, long dead and forgotten, than before Archons who built their thrones on lies and draped their dominion over the world with chains of faith.
If you're going to lie and manipulate, at least be honest about it. Don't hide behind the veil of religion.
'Shocking that you're still thinking about this now!'
Auren's mind wandered even as his legs burned, carrying him around the monstrous creature in a wide arc. His sword was ready, arm drawn back, while his metal boots tore through the sand. The black cloak of his armor streamed behind him, a shadow lashing at the wind—or was it the wind lashing at him?
He had no idea what Asenya planned. Left to him, he would've fled without a second thought. But she'd done this before, survived where others hadn't. So, for now, he'd trust her judgment.
