A few minutes later, the group examined the basement with care, searching for further signs or relics. Kyle made no effort to join them. His attention remained fixed on the image of the false god.
The youth had been correct in judging the signs of a cult, with its pronounced fixation on red. That much seemed undeniable, and perhaps the colour itself served as their emblem. Kyle possessed little knowledge of cults or their rites, yet he understood the history bound to the false gods.
In the world he once knew, they belonged to fantasy. Here, however, they appeared to have substance. Na-Ri had spoken of this realm as an alternate fallen past, which suggested that many of the myths whispered in the old world might stand as reality here.
Even so, he held no certainty and felt a weight of confusion. The matter was tangled, for anything that wove together two worlds and gave form to myth carried with it that same impenetrable complexity.
