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He calls my name at night, when the others are quiet.
I serve him. I bring him sacrifices. Only then does he cease calling, for a time. But never for long.
They are easy to convince, greed drives them. "Come with me, to Vahtacen," I whisper. "Treasure lies there, for the bold to take. A king's treasure, riches of the ancient Ayleids." By twos, threes, more, they follow me down to the lake and into the catacombs. To Vahtacen, to Vahtacen. But only I return.
He spares me, bids his minions let me pass, because of the lives I bring to him. So long as I lead hot blood to his altar, I live. But there must always be more.
Come with me, to Vahtacen.