They crouched under the broken archway of an overgrown aqueduct, staring down at the Cult's outer complex.
The temple was no grand cathedral-more like a fortified monastery tucked against the hillside, its outer walls patrolled and its towers sharp with watchlights. Whatever was inside had enough value to demand ritual and violence both.
"We don't have the numbers," Torren said, voice low. "Even the outer wall is thick with guards."
"There's no slipping past," Sevi added. "Every path is covered. And if one of us gets seen, they'll call reinforcements from inside."
Zee's gaze didn't waver. "They move in shifts. Every two hours. Just before dawn, one patrol leaves the north side."
"That's our gap?" Torren asked.
Zee nodded. "We use the slope. Climb the cliff to the upper windows. Fewer eyes there."
"Still," Sevi said, looking toward the main structure, "we'll need a distraction. Something loud. Short."
Zee thought for a long breath. Then: "Torch the grain store."
Torren raised an eyebrow. "Crude."
"Crude works," Zee replied. "It's on the western edge, near the road. They'll think it's an attack from outside."
"And you'll be inside," Sevi said, catching the plan. "While they put out the fire."
Zee nodded. "I'll grab the relic. We regroup in the stone wash behind the eastern hill."
A quiet agreement.
They split.
---
Torren and Sevi crept through the underbrush toward the old grain storage-a dry structure of woven reed and wood, likely holding offerings and food for the acolytes.
A single vial of fire oil was all they needed.
When it lit, it lit.
Flames snapped up the walls like angry hands. Bells rang. Guards scrambled. Torches fumbled in hands as boots thundered across stone paths.
Zee, meanwhile, moved through the abandoned north slope. The upper window was narrow, but he slipped through like breath in winter. The temple's stone belly was dim, quiet. The main chamber ahead glowed faintly.
At its heart: the relic.
It pulsed within a half-cracked crystal container, resting on a pedestal marked with runes he didn't read. It called to him-not loudly, but insistently. Like it belonged somewhere else.
He took it.
The alarms hadn't reached here yet. But as he turned to leave, voices surged from behind-a new patrol, too early, or one that hadn't taken the bait.
He ducked through the servant corridors, retracing the map Sevi had memorized for him.
He was almost out when he heard it.
"Get your hands off me-!"
Sevi's voice.
Then Torren's snarl.
He moved to look. Saw them both pinned by guards-Sevi struggling against a man's grip, Torren bruised and bound.
Zee's hand tightened on the dagger at his belt.
He measured.
Counted.
Too many.
More coming.
Charging in would end three lives, not save two.
His breath slowed.
His feet turned.
He left.
---
At the rendezvous point, he waited. A minute. Maybe more.
Then he tucked the relic deeper into his cloak and walked away.
He would return.
But not tonight.