LIROIDS: SNAKE

The Temples of Fire

The summons came at dusk, when the ruins of Meris still reeked of ash. Snake and Dragon were drawn back to Cellok, not by messenger, nor word of mouth, but by the pulse of the roots themselves. The black tree stirred, its whispers crawling into their marrow, pulling them home.

They arrived in silence, shadows bending at their approach. At the base of Evilside’s throne-tree, Queen Dark already knelt, her iron crown whispering, her robes trailing across roots that pulsed like veins. Scream stood behind her, veiled and still, her silence heavier than words. Glass lingered apart, pale eyes reflecting the tree’s foul light.

Snake and Dragon dropped to their knees, the air trembling with whispers.

Evilside spoke. Her voice was not one, but thousands, echoing from bark and soil alike. “The king of Tan yet lives. His priests still light their torches. Faith spreads like fire in the wind. This cannot be.”

The shadows thickened, coiling like serpents. “Ashes are not enough. Despair is not enough. Faith must be broken at the root. Go to the temples. Snuff their fire. Tear their prayers from their throats. Let the people see Tan of Tan silent.”

Snake lifted his head, his lips curling. “Your will is death, goddess. Their temples will drown in shadow.” How do you kill a god? He wondered.

Dragon’s grin split his burned face. “And I will burn their gods to ash.” He let his wounds heal.

Dark’s voice cut across them. “My brothers will not fail. Doomsany’s spies already watch the temples. Strike swiftly. Strike true. Bring me their silence.”

Beside her, Scream tilted her head. “But beware the child of Dragon. Passion kneels where she should not. She prays in fire.”

Dragon turned sharply, his grin gone. “She is mine.” His wounds were completely gone.

Scream’s veiled voice rasped. “Perhaps not for long.” Dragon was offended by her words.

Evilside’s roots groaned, sealing the command.

“Lay a single hand on my girl, and we shall find out if your veiled marks wield courage.”

With those threatening words dragon spoke, the assassins rose, shadow and flame united. The assault would begin.

The first temple lay in the valley of Avaris, a shrine carved into the mountainside. Its torches burned white, their flames said to be drawn from Tan of Tan’s breath. Priests stood in ranks upon the steps, their chants rolling like thunder, their faith steady. Peasants crowded the valley floor, eyes fixed on the fire.

From the cliffs above, Snake watched. His serpents slithered down the rocks, tongues tasting the air. Dragon stood beside him, resting his great blade across his shoulder, his grin sharp with hunger.

“They pray loudly,” Dragon muttered. “Do you think Tan listens?”

Snake’s eyes narrowed. “If he does, he will hear their screams.” Tan was close; he could sense it, but where?

At his signal, shadows uncoiled, serpents slithering into the crowd. Panic rippled as peasants fell silent, clutching at blackened wounds. Priests broke their chants to tend them, their torches flickering.

Dragon leapt from the cliff, his blade catching the torchlight. He landed among the priests with a roar, his laughter drowning their prayers. He swung wide, scattering men in sprays of blood, his hair burning like flame.

“Where is your god now?” he bellowed.

The priests rallied, torches blazing. White fire licked his skin, searing burns into his arms. Dragon snarled, pressing forward through the agony, his blade cutting prayers short. His skin hardened with his dragon scale.

Snake moved like a shadow among them, his daggers quick, his serpents curling around throats. He slipped through their ranks, his cloak flowing like smoke, his voice a whisper. “Pray louder. Perhaps he will save you.”

The torches dimmed, one by one. Flames guttered, snuffed out by blood and venom.

By dawn, the valley lay in silence. The white fire was gone.

Snake stood over the last priest, his blade poised. “Tan is deaf.” He drove the dagger deep.

Dragon wiped blood from his mouth, burns steaming on his chest. “One temple falls. How many more before faith breaks?”

Snake’s gaze lingered on the peasants who had fled into the hills. “Enough to plant doubt. Not enough to end it.” He turned to dragon, “Do you really enjoy bleeding?”

Dragon laughed, “It makes me stronger,” and at that, his wounds healed instantly.

“Just let your dragon scale do its work.”

“Yes, captain,” always the clown.

News reached the crusader king within hours. He stood in his war tent, his golden armor gleaming faintly, though cracks marred its surface. His generals bowed, their voices thick with grief.

“Your Grace, the temple of Avaris has fallen. Its torches are cold. Its priests slain.”

The king’s hands tightened on the map table. “Snake and Dragon.” The battle of the gods was a tiresome ordeal.

“Yes, my lord. The people whisper their names. Fear spreads. Some say Tan has turned his face away.”

The king lifted his sword, fire flickering along its edge. “Tan does not turn. Tan does not falter. For every temple they burn, we will light ten more. For every priest slain, a hundred will rise. Faith is fire. And fire spreads.”

His voice rang strong, but when the tent emptied, he sank to his knees before the altar flame. His whisper cracked. “Tan of Tan… if you hear me, speak. For I fear shadow more than sword.”

The flame wavered, thin as a dying breath.

“Weak as you may be mortal…” Tan spoke through the flames, “I still have much to do with you.”

In Doomsany, Queen Dark drank the news with delight. “The first torch snuffed. The first prayer was silenced. The goddess is pleased.”

Scream stood beside her, silent until Dark turned. “And Passion?”

Dark’s smile faltered. Only passion knew what she would gain by betraying her own kin. It would be a danger to touch her, knowing what dragon was capable of; he had rebelled before he could do it again.

Scream’s voice rasped through the veil. “She prays still. In fire. In temples that should be ash.”

Dark’s fingers tightened on her throne. “Then faith bleeds not only from Tan’s priests, but from our blood. Watch her. If she strays too far, cut her throat.”

Scream inclined her head. “Gladly.” Evil side, cunning as she was, would not let such a big detail pass her by, but why she did nothing about it was confusing.

In Kindraloy, Trina tended to Shiver, whose Tar mark burned brighter each night. The boy writhed in his sleep, whispering words in languages too old for a child. “The roots… the fire… they fight inside me.”

Trina clutched him close, her tears falling into his hair. “Your father will come. He will save you.”

But she knew Snake was far away, drowning in shadow.

Snake and Dragon marched to the next temple, this one greater, the temple of Ilaris, seat of Tan’s high priests. Its walls gleamed with white marble, its torches burned higher than men. Faith gathered here like an army, and among the priests knelt Passion.

Her lips whispered prayers, her eyes lifted to the flame. The priests believed her pure, a daughter of fire. They welcomed her into the inner circle, trusting her devotion. A Liroid, among them, was a great trophy.

She smiled with them, but her heart was steel. Every prayer is a lie. Every chant is a chain. The closer I come, the closer I strike.

From the shadows, Snake saw her. His heart clenched. He knew her face, her blood. Dragon’s daughter, kneeling before Tan.

“Betrayal,” Snake whispered.

Dragon’s eyes burned, his grin fading. “No. She plays her game. My blood does not kneel.”

But Snake saw the light in her eyes and doubted.

The attack came at nightfall. Snake’s serpents slithered into the temple, snuffing torches, coiling around throats. Dragon stormed the gates, his blade aflame, laughter shaking the walls.

Priests raised their torches, chanting. White fire burst, striking Dragon, searing his flesh. He roared but pressed forward, his blade cutting chants short. Snake moved in silence, his daggers slicing through prayers, his shadows spreading like smoke.

Among the priests, Passion stood still. She raised her torch, her lips chanting with the rest. But inside, her heart raced. She was close, so close to the god of Tan. Close enough, soon, to strike.

Snake saw her through the chaos. For a moment, their eyes met. His heart twisted with both recognition and doubt. Was she praying or plotting?

The temple burned. The torches fell. The priests screamed.

But in the smoke, Passion knelt, her lips moving in words no assassin could hear.

“Soon. I will bleed the god you serve. Soon.”

Snake turned away, his blade dripping. Dragon roared in triumph, his laughter echoing.

But in the shadows above, Glass wept into her crystals. She saw what they did not. She saw Passion’s dagger raised not at men, but at gods.

Her whisper cracked, her blood dripping into the shards. “Every shadow carries its end.”

By dawn, the temple of Ilaris was ash. Snake and Dragon stood upon the ruins, the wind scattering prayers that no longer had flame to carry them.

Snake’s eyes were hollow. “Faith burns still. The king rallies again. This is not enough.”

Dragon’s grin split his healing scarred face. “Then we burn more. Burn until fire itself surrenders.”

But in the smoke, a girl knelt unseen, her torch guttering, her hands steady. Passion’s lips moved in silence, her dagger hidden in her robes.

Closer. Closer. Soon.