In the depths of the Temple of Moras, an oppressive silence hung heavy in the air.
Rows of acolytes stood motionless, heads bowed, eyes avoiding the grand altar that loomed like a beast waiting to feed.
The stillness was broken only by the quiet, pitiful sobbing of a child—a sound so fragile and raw that even the priests, trained to ignore emotion, found themselves shifting uncomfortably.
The boy sat on the cold stone floor, clutching his knees, his shoulders trembling. His cries echoed faintly off the marble walls, blending into the eerie silence of the sacred space.
Some of the younger priests looked to one another uncertainly, as if considering stepping forward. But then, as if struck by a shared realization, they lowered their gazes once again.
This was the chosen one—the offering selected by Moras himself. Who were they to interfere?
The doors to the inner sanctum creaked open, and the High Priest stepped into view.
