In His Name

Chapter 80 - The day of judgement

I awake from my dreams to the horrible noise of destruction, to the sound of something hitting stone with enough force to shatter it, to the screams of the dying and of those for the first-time witnessing death. Smoke already filtered in around my door, illuminated by the violent flash of light out my window. Scrambling to my feet, I throw on my shoes, not bothering to dress otherwise properly. The city is under attack, though that shouldn't be possible. We are the greatest power in the world, no one dares stand against us. Retribution is swift to any who so much as speak out of turn. I must find my master. He will know what is happening, he will know what to do. And he will have orders.

My palm smooths against the wood of my door, it doesn't feel hot, and I can only pray the fires that caused the smoke are still further down the halls.

Pushing into the hallway, relief floods my veins as I join the crush of other aids rushing to escape. Every shadow darkened face matches my own, shock, confusion, fear. This shouldn't be happening here; this can't be happening here. Another blast wracks the dormitory. The walls groaning and shuttering with the impact, the once safe, stable floor rippling with the repercussions of the blast, knocking everyone off their feet. The hall echoes with screams, with shouts of pain, and then panic as everyone presses harder to escape. I feel my feet trample over the crumbled shape of another, hear their whimpers of pain as those around me do the same. It's an unfortunate person who'd fallen in the blast, unbale to get to their feet before the crush of us fell over them in our rush to escape. But I have no time to dwell over the sick feeling of bones crunching under foot or the way my shoes now feel slick under the soles. I have to get to my master, as I'm sure everyone else around me thinks the same. I say a prayer, that those trampled will pass quickly, at least that way they will not also have to face the wrath of their masters at their failure.

The stair well is a war zone, I am almost pulled under the crowd in that mess as yet another blast rocks the world. But getting through here means freedom, and I will not fail.

I had thought making out the door would bring light to the situation, that I would have room to breathe, but the sight outside my dormitory chills me. The city is in flames, fire rains down from the sky and the earth is soaked with blood. The temple itself shutters as it is ripped apart from the inside. And I learn that the projectiles that had torn through the dormitory, had been chucks of the temple's marble, flying through the air and dashing the buildings surrounding it. I almost crumble in fear. Unable to imagine what sort of advisory could do such a thing to the temple of a god, not just any temple, but his own dwelling place. Thoughts of my master move my feet, dutifully carrying me forward.

Racing though the temple grounds I duck to avoid shrapnel, leap to avoid bodies. I have to find my master, but my panic riddled mind is having trouble deciding where the high priest might be in the midst of such disaster. I cry out with relief as I spot him. High priest 000000 stands, calm and serene on the steps of the ranking priest's dormitory, a few traitorous stragglers rushing past him in hopes of fleeing whatever monster is attacking the temple. But the scene before me makes no sense, why does he appear to be doing nothing? The sounds of destruction quiet around me as I approach him. My heart beating hard, but slowly in my chest. I kneel at his feet; head lowered in deference.

"Master?" I call, my voice too soft to be heard over the noise ringing out around us, but he still tilts his head, pulling his eyes away from the defilement of the temple to look down at me. "What's happening? What should we do?" I ask, seeking his guidance. His eyes are hard, muscles around his jaw tight. I rarely ever see such genuine anger from him. He would put on great shows of rage for the masses. For them, he displayed bright, vibrant emotion. He'd shout in anger, or cry from sympathy. But those of us allowed to serve him know it's all an act. People responded better to his message when he delivered it with intensity. But the man himself is cold, calculating, and ultimately indifferent.