”Let me be clear; no one is Haute’s friend, and he helps no one but himself. He’ll be friendly, he’ll do you a favor, he’ll make it look like he’s putting himself in danger for you, but it’s all to his own ends. He doesn’t care about you, and if he helps you, it always comes at a price. Do not trust him, do not promise him anything unless you are absolutely sure you can do it.“ – Ul’vade
Veron shook his head, he hated trusting demons. “Let’s do this, then.”
The cave was so bright he forgot what darkness meant. It wasn’t until a moment later that pitch black enveloped his vision, and a small cackle filled his mind. His heart sank slightly, being unable to see anything, but he was unable to fight the process.
She however paused as he held out his pay, seeming to recognize him. “Wait, what’s your name?”
“Veron Tepes, son of Vlad,” Veron replied, setting down his payment as she seemed to refuse to give him his loaf, eyeing him up and down, trying to recognize where she’d seen him before.
Yet despite the legends and dangers present, still people try to reach the tops of these stone columns, only to fall to their deaths below. There are some skeptics who don’t believe that there’s anything at the top of these stones at all, that they’re myths created by vindictive people, or even Haute himself.
The priest went to help Veron, lifting and carrying Vlad inside while the two hunters slowly and carefully made their way up the steps into the chapel behind them. Upon entering it was dark and musky, frail candles lit throughout the place flickering hesitantly to dispel the shadows that hung everywhere else.