Shadowdance 01 - A Dance of Cloaks

watched in horror as it smacked atop the ceiling, splattering a messy red.
    “To be expected,” the priest said. “Many things are strange here, and you will see only a blessed few. Karak is god everywhere, but we have consecrated this room with blood and prayers.”
    Aaron tried to move but could not. He looked to his wrists, where he felt cold iron chains. He saw nothing but air. The same for his ankles. As he struggled, he saw indents press against his skin, made by no visible source.
    “Chains are a deceptive thing,” Pelarak said. “Who makes them? What gives them their strength? It is shallow to call them iron and unbreakable, yet foolish to call them self-made. You have chains upon you. Break them.”
    Pelarak waved his hand as he gave the command. A sudden urge filled Aaron’s heart. He could think of nothing but escape. Every flight response he had was triggered in his mind. Every muscle clenched and fought against the invisible chains. He felt his skin rub raw. His knees and shoulders throbbed in agony. Blood dripped upward in a perverse rain. Finally he flung his entire body forward, straining so hard against the chains his neck bulged and his forehead dripped sweat that drifted upward into his hair before pooling into thick drops that rose to the ceiling.
    No matter how hard he tried, he could neither break the chains nor stop his trying.
    “This is life,” Pelarak said, watching emotionlessly. “We struggle against our bonds, unable to break them, but only because we are foolish. You have made those chains, Aaron. Break them.”
    He wanted to. Oh, how he wanted to. It felt like his heart would burst, each rapid beat like a hammer blow to his chest. More blood floated upward from his wrists. His mind searched for the solution. Robert Haern had always insisted he’d know the answer to a question when asked, but did this priest ensure him the same fairness? What did he mean, chains of his own creation?
    “I don’t understand,” he said, his voice cracking. His tongue felt made of cotton.
    “Then try harder,” Pelarak said. “Ignorance is not an excuse; it is a blindness fostered by this world. Your body will break, and you will die, all because of your ignorance.”
    The man was clearly a priest of Karak. Only one thing came to mind that might explain the chains, and why he would think them his own creation: Ashhur.
    “I’ve prayed to Ashhur,” Aaron shouted. He felt his maddening urge to struggle slowly subside. His breath shuddered as he hung limply from the invisible chains.
    “Very good,” Pelarak said. “You’re making progress. Look to your hands and feet.”
    Aaron did. No longer were the chains invisible. Though they felt like iron, they appeared to be made of white marble. Golden Mountains decorated their keyholes. The room slowly darkened, though the chains remained bright, almost glowing.
    “Symbols,” Aaron said, his voice a whisper. “They lie as easily as men.”
    Pelarak’s face seemed to darken at this.
    “Keep your eyes open,” he said. “I have something I want you to see.”
    He stepped back. The room turned completely dark, although both the chains and Pelarak remained perfectly visible. A fire sparked in the center of the room. Within its center Aaron saw the briefest image of an eye. The fire sparked again, then grew. It roared to the ceiling, enormous but without heat. Its life was quick, and as it died a young girl stood before him, her fiery red hair tangled and unkempt.
    “Aaron?” Delysia asked. Aaron felt his body tremble at the sound of her voice.
    Just a lie
, he thought.
Just another lie.
    But it was hard to believe that as she touched the side of his face. Her hand felt cold, but her touch was real. Tears flowed up his eyes and to the ceiling. Her dress was charred as if by fire.
    “They do lie,” the girl said. “The Abyss is cold. The fires give no heat. Ashhur didn’t want me, so now I’m here. I gave no love to Karak, so he gives no love to me.”
    “You’re not real,” he said. It sounded like a plea. “You’re with Ashhur. You went to a better place. You were good. You were
innocent
.”
    Pelarak laughed. Delysia cried. Her body faded upon an unfelt wind.
    “No one’s innocent,” Delysia said through her sniffles. “But I worshipped something false. It didn’t matter how I prayed. I prayed to deaf ears.”
    Aaron flung himself against his chains, desperate to touch her. She was fading away like a ghost. The darkness was