The usual temple with the white tiles had turned bloody red. Pool of blood spread, almost creating an ocean of red as a priest had ran for his life before falling pathetically on the ground. Having no weapon nor armor, the last act of protection the priest could do was held his hand before his chest, tears staining his horror stricken face and his lips still painted with blood of his own brother that hadn't dried.
"Please— Spare me! Spare us, milord! This all has been a misunderstanding—"
Sitting down at that blood red temple was none other than the young Crius. Young with age but not young with experience as he had became a priest ever since he was seven. He was always considered to be the youngest priest who had awoken his power when he was still a baby. Ever since then he had worked as a deacon, learning quietly and watching how the temple work.
But this was the first time he ever seen such guest into the temple.
