Erian took one last step out of the line and felt as if he had shed an invisible shackle. He didn't stray far from the crowd. Instead, he began walking parallel to the line, following its slow advance toward the temple entrance.
With every step, the murmured prayers surrounded him like a constant hum, mingling with weary sighs and held-back impatience.
His chest tightened. Part of him feared someone would stop him, that a hand would grab his arm or an indignant voice would accuse him of trying to sneak in. But no one did. No one even looked at him.
Every person in line seemed too absorbed in their own thoughts, their offerings, their prayers… themselves.
During those long hours, Erian had watched the people and found it deeply curious, almost incomprehensible, that the God of War was so revered by humans.
Korveth, the same god with an overwhelming presence and a sharp temper, was admired by all.
Why?
Erian couldn't understand it.
