Lord Varain walked up the marble steps into the temple. A priest approached, and said, “My Lord?”
“I would speak to my Mistress. Arrange it.”
“My Lord.” The priest hurried away. Soon there was activity all around, as figures were drawn on the ground and braziers lit. When the chanting began, Varain knew it was time to move into position.
Above the chalk figures, she appeared: first as a wisp, then a cyclone, and finally a figure. “Worm, why do you seek my attention?”
“Mistress… I seek guidance. The peasants are in revolt. What shall I do?”
She laughed. “Die.”
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