The orc berserker howled as its claws tore through the air just above Elira's head. The priestess dodged with surprising agility for someone in chains, rolling to the side before rising to an upright posture.
"Blood!" the cannibal goblin screamed hysterically.
"Want to see blood, priestess!"
The wolf-man grinned, baring rows of yellow fangs.
"Keep running, pretty elf. This game is more fun."
But Elira didn't run. She stood in the middle of the cage, blue eyes staring at each monster with a mixture of sadness and determination. Her chained hands were raised, fingers moving in a holy symbol.
"Lumina Sanctus," she whispered, the sound soft yet echoing throughout the cage.
Soft white light spread from her palms, illuminating the faces of the monsters. For a moment, the crazed expressions in their eyes flickered, as if a flicker of consciousness had remained.
Jorik laughed loudly. "Healing magic? In a place like this?" He spat on the floor. "Celestial nonsense doesn't work in hell, foolish priestess."
The berserker orc shook his head violently, his red eyes blazing with rage. "Light hurts the eyes! Make it go away!"
He lunged again, but this time the brutal blow hit home. A massive claw ripped through the sleeve of Elyra's robe, leaving a bloody scratch on her pale skin.
Elyra gasped, blood dripping onto the stone floor.
But instead of backing away or screaming, he knelt beside the wounded goblin—one of the cannibals, who was cowering in pain from an old wound on his chest.
"What have you done, you fool?" I muttered from my cage, unable to believe what I was witnessing.
The priestess placed a hand on the goblin's wound, the healing light returning to its usual glow. "All creatures deserve salvation," she whispered softly.
The cannibal goblin stared at her with wide eyes, utter confusion replacing the momentary madness. The wound on his chest began to close, torn flesh stitching back together.
"Why…" the goblin whispered, his voice hoarse.
"Why did you… heal me?"
"Because you are seriously ill," Elira answered simply. "And I am a healer."
I couldn't help the loud laugh that burst from my mouth. The rough sound echoed in the corridor, causing several prisoners to turn to me with confused looks.
"Hahahaha!" I continued laughing until my stomach hurt. "Healing cannibal goblins? You are truly insane, priestess!"
Jorik grinned at my reaction. "Finally the quiet one has commented. Do you also think this priestess is stupid?"
"Stupid?" I wiped away the tears that had come from laughing. "This is more than just stupidity. This is god-level madness."
Elira turned to me, blue eyes meeting mine. There was a strange calmness there, as if she had expected the ridicule.
"Madness or not," she said in a calm tone, "every soul deserves a second chance."
"Second chance?" I stood up, hands gripping the bars of the cage. "That goblin has eaten thirteen human children, naive priestess. I counted them myself when he told me about his 'achievements' yesterday."
The newly healed goblin backed away from Elira, eyes flashing with internal conflict. Part of him still thirsted for blood, but something had changed in the way he looked at the priestess.
"She… she healed me," the goblin muttered to himself. "But I… I've eaten many children…"
The wolf-man roared in frustration. "Don't listen to her! The priestess is just a trick! Eat her now!"
The berserker orc nodded in agreement, salivating even more. "Yes! Elf meat must be delicious!"
But something had changed in the dynamics of the cage. The healed goblin now stood between Elira and the other monsters, his posture hesitant but protective.
"Don't hurt her," the goblin said quietly. "She's… kind."
"TRAITOR!" the berserker orc roared, now directing his anger at the goblin. "You forget who our family is!"
A fight broke out inside the cage—not between the monsters and the priestess, but between the monsters themselves. Berserker orcs charged the healed goblins, while wolf-men ran in circles looking for an opening to attack Elira.
Jorik pounded on the bars with his iron club.
"Enough! You're destroying merchandise!"
But the chaos was out of control. The monsters attacked each other, the cage shaking from the impact of massive bodies. Blood began to splatter the stone walls.
Amidst the chaos, Elira remained calm. She even tried to heal a second goblin who had been injured in the fight—one of the cannibals who had originally intended to eat her.
"Priestess," I called, voice hard. "You realize they're still going to kill you after this is over, right?"
She turned, a faint smile on her bleeding lips.
"Maybe. But at least I tried to give them a choice."
"A choice?" I shook my head in disbelief. "You gave a choice to a beast. They don't have a conscience to choose from."
"Every creature has a conscience," Elira said firmly.
"It's up to us to awaken it or not."
The wolf-man suddenly leapt from behind, claws out for Elira's neck. But the healed goblin was faster, his small body crashing into the wolf-man and both of them tumbling to the floor.
"You can't hurt the healer!" the goblin screamed, clawing at the wolf-man's face. "She's been good to me!"
Jorik was getting angrier at the chaos in the monster cage. "Damn it! This priestess is ruining order!" he shouted at the other guards. "Get her out of there before the mad monsters all become tame!"
But before the guards could move, heavy footsteps echoed from the end of the corridor. Different footsteps—more determined, more powerful.
Everyone, including Jorik, froze instantly.
A figure clad in black robes emerged from the darkness, face hidden behind a hood. But I could feel the aura of death emanating from the person. A very familiar aura.
The Necromancer.
"Something wrong here?" a cold voice echoed, making the air in the corridor feel even more tense.
Jorik immediately bowed respectfully. "Lord Malachar. There is no problem. It's just the new priestess who—"
"Priestess?" The hooded figure stepped closer, hidden eyes staring into the monster cage. "High Priestess of the Temple of Serenity, if I'm not mistaken."
Elira rose to her feet slowly, blue eyes staring fearlessly at the necromancer. "I am Elira Moonveil. And I fear you not, worshipper of darkness."
Malachar laughed, his voice echoing with a supernatural tone. "Scared? No, priestess. You should not be afraid." He reached into his robes for something—a vial of thick red liquid.
"You should be grateful. Your blood will be very useful for tomorrow night's ritual."
A deathly silence fell over the corridor. Even the monsters in the cages stopped fighting, as if sensing the eerie change in atmosphere.
Elira stared at the vial of red liquid, her face pale but her resolve unwavering. "The gods never descend. But blood? Always present."