Chapter 165

The Temple of the Gods

For a while, Shadow said nothing. He allowed the girl to cry until her sobs became less frequent. Her breathing steadied and she raised her face a few inches away from her hands. Shadow took this as a cue that he could start speaking.

"What's her name?" He asked, gesturing to the statue.

"Materna," Amara whispered, her voice hoarse.

"She is one of your gods?"

Amara nodded. "The queen of the gods, and patron of lost women."

"And this is the pantheon of the empire?"

"It was," She allowed.

Shadow watched her closely. Amara's fur dimmed to a dull gray beneath the gloomy haze within the temple. However, this only served to further highlight the stark brightness of her eyes which burned like small embers beneath long black lashes.

He had not taken much notice of the princess before. She was a feline with light fur and large ears. Tufts of short snowy white hair framed her face. Her eyes were big and some of their color had returned. Though they had appeared colorless back in the cell, now Shadow saw the yellow blow beneath the long curtains of her eyelashes. "We must go back," Shadow said gently.

"There's no point," Amara returned, her voice hardly audible above a whisper. "We run from darkness into darkness."

"You heard your father, he believed in you."

Amara blinked and turned to face Shadow. He felt physically struck by the intensity of her expression. Despite her meager dress, an aura of royalty still cloaked her. "My father is dead, as is everyone and everything I have ever loved." She glared vengefully at the shrine above them and spat at the hedgehog's feet. "Even our gods are dead."

"But you're not," Shadow allowed some sharpness to return to his voice.

Amara let out a weary laugh, poisoned with exasperation. "I persist. That does not make me alive. I-" Her combative tone dropped instantly as she was overtaken by an involuntary sob. Amara tried to hide her face with her hands, while at the same time resisting that instinct. The end result was that she flung her hands forward with a frustrated cry.

"You don't understand!" She exploded. Her frustration mounted, causing Amara to seize tufts of her own hair and pull.

"Enough!" Shadow snatched Amara's wrists and held them firm. She did not try to resist him, but instantly wilted, slouching forward until she was facing the floor. "We don't have time for you to feel sorry for yourself." Shadow's words echoed through the empty temple. "What's done is done, now you have to move forward."

He let go of her wrists and Amara fell onto her hands to brace herself up. "Please," She said softly. "I want to rest. Have the priest-"

"No," Shadow snarled. "If you want to die so badly you can do so once this is over. But for now we need you."

Amara looked up, her eyes glossed with tears. "You're no better than Black Doom then. You just want to use me."

Shadow knew she wanted him to react to this slander, but he remained completely indifferent. "I don't care what you think. You don't matter to me at all. All I care about is splitting up Eggman's forces."

"Bastard." Amara's face concentrated with rage. "Who are you? Are you one of those Thirteens?"

"Never mind who I am," Shadow replied. "Right now what matters is that I am the one that saved you." He held out his arm and once again, displayed to her the Ring of Kings. "Your father gave me this, and I made him a promise. I did my part, now you must do yours."

"I don't care, I could give a damn about your promises." Amara resumed sitting and turned away from him. "Do what you will, but I will have no part in it. Drag me to the Imperado if you can, but I will not help you."

Shadow did not take the bait. "Then that's what I'll do. I don't need you to be a willing participant. I just need your face to rally your people against Eggman."

Amara and he locked eyes. Their wills clashed and Shadow knew that he could not back down. It was essential that Amara believed that Shadow was capable of following out his words. The duel lasted several moments. Amara, despite her claims of resignation, fought with near equal determination, almost convincing Shadow to back down. However, at last, her eyes dropped and her wilful defiance faded away. She turned aside and pressed her hands together. As if to ignore Shadow completely, she resumed praying in front of the shrine.

Knowing that he needed to proceed with caution, Shadow did not interrupt her but waited patiently for a few minutes. When he no longer heard Amara whispering, he resumed speaking. "You said this was the pantheon of the empire, what do you mean by that?"

"It is as the wolf said, the new emperor banned the practice of the old religion."

"But this place is far too run down," Shadow observed. "It could not have been forsaken since the time Eggman arrived."

"No," Amara agreed. "The old faith has long been eroded." She motioned to the statue of the chief deity. "Eryndor was the patron deity of Tralagia, the god of kings. But as the empire grew and its territory expanded, the power of the emperor himself became absolute. Eventually, the notion of a pantheon ruled by a power outside of the person of the emperor became taboo. The old pantheon was never formally outlawed, but the cult of the emperor became the new functioning religion."

"I thought Robotnik introduced that?"

Amara shook her head. "Robotnik and his cultists have carried the faith to new heights, but the worship of the emperor has been a long standing tradition. It was the source of my father's persecution of the Thirteens. They would never recognize the emperor as a god, much less the highest god."

"Did you think that your father was a god?"

Amara blinked slowly. "The royal family was free to keep its own religion. We had temples to the old pantheon in the capital and I visited the shrine to Materna to offer prayers. But since you ask if I believed my father was a god…He was the absolute ruler of a large nation, his will was reality. Hundreds of thousands died at his command, and millions more owed their continued lives to his good will. If that is not a god, then I don't know what is."

She sighed and held up her hand to feel the gentle breeze that swept suddenly through the temple. "But that is the history of the old world. Those gods are dead, as is my father. Robotnik and Black Doom are the only gods that exist now."

"And what about this Solaris?" Shadow prompted. "The deity of those you call the Thirteens."

Amara frowned. "They," She said with loathing, "Are like Black Doom and the emperor. The imperial pantheon was true because we made it true. The power of the empire itself was the power of our gods. We were never so deluded as to believe that our gods were the only ones. I am not surprised the final battle will be between them. Both sides are completely insane."

Shadow let the comment pass. Now that she was speaking, Shadow did not want to interrupt her.

"I don't understand this world," She lamented. "And I don't want to be a part of it. Nothing can be saved. It is all we can do to escape."

"And what about your people?" Shadow had been waiting for the conversation to steer in this direction. "Would you serve them up to Black Doom?"

Amara shook her head. "I…there is nothing that can be done."

"There is," Shadow insisted. "You want to convince yourself that there isn't so that you don't have to fight."

"Hah," Amara chuckled derisively. "So you and your friends are brave and I'm weak, so what? Your words cannot touch me. You don't know, and I cannot make you understand."

"Do you think you're the only one who has seen the darkness?" Shadow challenged. "Black Doom is nothing compared to the real evil that drives him. But it can be beaten back if we just-"

"Spare me your lectures," Amara groaned. "All this bravado will mean nothing once you are in the clutches of Black Doom. He will tear you apart, break your spirit inch by inch. You will want to die but you-" Amara stopped short. Tears were flowing down her cheeks again. She looked as though she would hide herself again, but instead she took a shuddering breath. "You will want to die, but even that mercy will be taken from you."

The princess stretched out her hands and turned them over for Shadow to see. He looked and his stomach twisted as he saw the scars tracing down her forearm. Like the cut around Zertian's neck, these fatal wounds were healed and the skin stiched over by Black Doom's foul necromancy. "You?"

"Yes," Amara interrupted. "I had my chance and I took it. I nearly bled out in my cell before the cultists found me. I hoped it would be too late, but Black Doom merely laughed. I could not escape, he told me. He promised that I would not rest until the end without end."

"What?" Shadow felt his heart skip a beat. The dreaded terror of the Realm Lord seized him. "The end without end? That is what he said?"

Amara seemed taken aback. "Yes…I remember because-"

Shadow pushed her hands away. "It doesn't matter," He growled. "None of it. Your pain is nothing compared to what's coming." Ardaline was surging through Shadow now. His mind was racing as he tried to understand the implications of what he had heard. Is the Realm Lord working through Black Doom? That didn't seem possible, but it also did not seem likely that it was merely a coincidence. Shadow jumped to his feet and offered out his hand. "Come on, we have to get out of here now."

Amara simply gawked at him. "Don't you understand? I am a freak, neither alive nor dead. I can't help anybody."

"That doesn't matter," Shadow said through clenched teeth. "We can stop Black Doom and the emperor, I promise. But every minute we waste allows them to gain more power."

"Are you ever going to listen to what I'm saying?" Amara flushed as she also got to her feet. "If you had any sense at all you'd go back to wherever you came from. I-" But she stopped as they both heard the unmistakable sound of approaching footsteps.

Shadow had been too focused on Amara to pay attention to their surroundings. He rushed forward to seize her and hide them both behind the shrine. However, it was already too late. Only a few seconds later two figures emerged out of the darkness and into the faint trace of moonlight streaking in through the broken roof.

"Hey, who's here? I saw you already, so you may as well come out." A female squirrel with long rounded ears and a bright tail held up a flickering torch and held it above her head. Beside her, an elderly squirrel leaned heavily on a twisted staff.

Shadow didn't move. The newcomers did not appear dangerous, but Shadow did not want to give up his position yet.

"Stop hiding!" The girl's voice cracked. She was only making an attempt at sounding firm, but in reality she seemed just as scared of being found.

"Keep your voice down," Shadow said quietly as he and Amara emerged from behind the statue. He held up his hands in a sign of peace and walked forward slowly.

The squirrel instinctively drew back to her companion and stuck the torch out further to use the fire as a makeshift barrier between herself and Shadow. "What are you doing here? There shouldn't be anyone here!"

"We could say the same to you." Amara walked out from behind Shadow and folded her arms. "The temples have been sanctioned off."

The squirrel let out a nervous whimper. "So what if they are? That doesn't mean-are…are you with the imperial cult?"

Amara's eyes narrowed. "No, I came here to pray."

"Pray?" The old squirrel spoke through a heavy cough. He was nearly bent over on his staff and his legs were trembling. "It is forbidden to pray to the old gods."

"And the punishment is death," Amara replied coolly. "I've already gone through that."

"Just leave us be," The squirrel said sharply, regaining some of her courage. "We mean you no harm." She glanced back at the old squirrel and shook her head. "Please, just…just leave us alone."

Shadow stepped aside and motioned for the girl to pass. She glared at him for a moment before deciding it wasn't worth risking further confrontation. The old squirrel clutched her arm and the two of them shuffled forward. When they reached the base of the statue to Eryndor the old man knelt down.

The young squirrel then unstrapped the bag she had been carrying and opened it up. She withdrew a blanket which she unfurled on the ground. The old squirrel knelt gingerly on the blanket while the younger started to remove a series of seemingly random items from her bag.

Shadow and Amara watched them. "They are preparing for a last rite," Amara said in surprise. "The old one, he must be dying."

The young squirrel unstoppered a flask of clear water and poured it gently onto the older one's head. When she was done she gave him a scroll, ink and pen and he began to write.

Amara made to move forward, but Shadow caught her arm. "We don't have time for this." She struck him with a withering glare so intense that he temporarily relaxed his grip. This allowed Amara to shrug him off and proceed. Shadow rolled his eyes and followed.

"You are taking a great risk," Amara observed as they drew near.

The young squirrel frowned. "My grandfather worshiped the old gods all his life. It is only proper that he should have his last rites before he goes. A priest should be here with him, but…I will have to do."

"What is your name?" Amara asked gently.

"Gwelda."

"I am Arvina." The lie caught Shadow off guard who exchanged a rapid glance with the princess who gave him a nod that told him he should play it off.

"That is a pretty name," Gwelda said. "You mentioned you came here to pray. Does that mean you worship the old gods?"

Amara shook her head. "No. I don't worship anything anymore."

Gwelda smiled faintly. "Neither do I. There doesn't seem much of a point anymore." She looked up at the towering statue of Eryndor and frowned. "They could not protect us. Everything has been lost, but they didn't lift a finger."

"So I take it you don't worship the emperor?" Shadow interjected. "I thought all you imperials loved him?"

Gwelda shrugged. "Most do. We live in comfort and peace and our wealth increases everyday. But everything that made life what it is, that made it worth living has been steadily stripped away."

"I'm finished." The old squirrel put his pen aside and gingerly held up the scroll. Gwelda accepted it and scrutinized the writing. Unable to control his curiosity, Shadow looked over her shoulder. He expected to see the lines of a will or some final words, instead, his translator picked up the opening lines of a poem.

"It's wonderful," Gwelda stated heavily after she finished reading. "You've outdone yourself grandfather."

The old man inclined his head. "Words are feeble things." His glossy eyes fixed on the towering statue. "What have we mortals to offer when we are but dust, here one moment and gone the next? It is our very impermanence that allows us to appreciate beauty. That is the irony of a mortal life. We look up to the gods in envy, and they look down on us with jealousy."

"Old man," Shadow started. "Are there more like you? Do many imperials hold to your old ways and customs?"

"He is not called old man," Gwelda fumed. "His name is Eskel. He was once a Flamen of Gizbon, the god of iron works and chief lieutenant to Eryndor."

"Never mind," Eskel waved his granddaughter aside and fixed his sight on Shadow. Despite the extreme effect age had on his body, Eskel's eyes were completely unaffected. Not a trace of cloud fogged the emerald green. "To answer your question stranger, there are only a few. The emperor is shrewd. If all his reforms and changes had been presented at once there would have been uprising after uprising. But they have been slow and calculated, steadily removing the very ground beneath our feet and replacing it with his metal converter belts. Now our whole society is moving towards an end we cannot see. Perhaps there really is utopia on the other side. But there are some who are too afraid to find out. Maybe that makes us weak and unfit for the emperor's world. So be it then. There once was a place for weakness in this world, even in the empire. But power made us greedy. This is the destiny we have long built for ourselves, not with one fatally evil choice but with many small shortcuts."

"But some will fight?" Shadow urged.

"What are you talking about?" Gwelda interrupted. "Who are you?"

Shadow ignored her. "What would it take to wake your people up, to make them see that the emperor is evil."

Eskel frowned. "Strength," He said simply. "Maybe one in a thousand will be moved by a righteous cause."

"Even if the emperor intends to destroy this planet?"

"What does that mean?" Gwelda shrieked. "Grandfather I don't think we should listen to these-" But she stopped when Eskel gave a short cry and fell forward onto his hands. Shadow and Amara rushed forward to help, but he waved them off.

"Hurry," She said. "We should complete the ceremony." Gwelda motioned to her bag, and Amara went and brought it over. Four miniature bronze icons were removed and set in a line in front of Eskel. Each icon held a small wick and the three of them set to work on lighting the candles, taking turns using Gwelda's torch.

Eskel moaned faintly as Gwelda gave him a cushion for him to rest his head. His breathing slowed and his body began to tremble violently. "This journey has taken its toll on him," Gwelda explained, her voice shaking. "I told him it wasn't worth it, that it would steal the very little time he had left." She began to stroke the old squirrel's head as tears trickled down her cheek.

"He is a true son of Tralagia," Amara said stoically. "He deserves to die with his honor intact."

Gwelda scoffed. "What did honor ever do for us?" Her eyes hardened as she took a small leather bound sheath out of her bag. Gwelda removed the tarnished silver dagger from the sheath and placed it down between the candles. Her eyes flashed towards Shadow. "He has chosen to die today," She finished in a whisper.

Shadow glared down at the knife. "You are resigned to your fate then. Robotnik will rule your world and decide your destiny for you."

"I didn't say that," Gwelda corrected. "I still hope that things will change for the better. It is the loss of hope that has aged my grandfather so much." She looked longfully down at the old figure at her feet. "The fire of the empire is more than just gods and honor. When the time comes, when the emperor's true person is revealed we will fight."

"And by then it will be too late." Shadow knelt down beside Eskel and held up his arm. The golden bracelet bearing the Ring of Kings reflected in the old squirrel's face. "Do you know what this is?"

Eskel's eyes widened. He groaned as he made a half effort to push himself up. "Then you know what it means?" Shadow prompted. Eskel nodded.

"Then instead of dying here in some noble ceremony, get up and do the harder thing. Go, tell everyone that you can that the fire of the empire still burns." Shadow pointed at Amara. "That is the daughter of Zertian. We are going to declare her the new empress and depose Robotnik."

Eskel's face blanched. He looked back and forth from Shadow to Amara, his mouth hanging open in complete bewilderment. "Can…can it be?"

"You? You're the princess?" Gwelda asked skeptically. Her suspicion was well founded. Clothed in her prisoners' rags, filthy and covered in bruises, Amara looked more like a common beggar than royalty.

However, as Shadow hoped, the challenge spurred some inner fire within Amara that exploded to the surface.

"I am," Amara stated firmly. "Before he died my father charged me with rescuing our country. Robotnik and Black Doom do not care for our people. They think of us as useful tools and nothing else."

"Amara…" Eskel said slowly. With a great effort, he pushed himself onto his knees and bowed face first towards her.

"Grandfather!" Gwelda dropped down beside him and tried to lift him up. The old squirrel seemed rejuvenated with fresh energy. He clutched Gwelda's shoulder and, with a stupendous effort, rose to his feet.

"Put these things away child." Eskel took his staff and leaned heavily against it. "I was a fool," He lamented. "This was the last act of a coward. You are right Gwelda, I am sorry it took me so long to see it. Hope is harder, but hope we must."

"Grandfather…" Gwelda clutched the silver dagger in her hands. "Are…are you sure?"

He smiled at her. "You will need my help. We must tell everyone what we know." He turned back to Shadow. "When the time comes, when Amara reveals herself, there will be some who will be expecting it, who will be ready to fight."

"Grandfather…" Tears flushed Gwelda's eyes, but they were not tears of sadness. A wide smile stretched her face. "Alright, let's go we-" The smile faded as Gwelda's eyes crossed together.

Time seemed to stop. Shadow watched in a slowed blur as Gwelda's expression shifted from happiness, to surprise, to emptiness. A hole burned in the gap between her chest and hands. Purple smoke curled around the blast.

Clang. The silver knife slipped from Gwelda's hands and fell to the floor. She stumbled onto her backfoot before collapsing into a heap. No one moved. The attack had been so sudden and definitive that Shadow was temporarily stunned.

Eskel let out a moan of grief and fell down beside his granddaughter. Amara screamed and pointed to something towards the temple entrance. Shadow felt sluggish as he turned, the world seemingly frozen in time.

Mephiles floated in the air encircled by a cloud of purple and black vapor. His appearance had changed since Shadow had seen him last. Every square inch of his body was dominated by that rocky texture that had formed during their battle. Only now the skin had crystallized and smoothed into sleek diamonds. His feet were gone, replaced by stumpy shards of the crystalline rock. His eyes were a poisonous green set in a pool of boiling magenta. He hovered awkwardly in the air, his joints jerking unnaturally whenever he moved as if he were a puppet with no control of his limbs.

Cold laughter filled the temple as Mephiles raised his hand. A shard of blue crystal shot through the air and struck Eskel in the back. The old man let out a silent cry as the air shot out of his lungs. He slumped forward on top of Gwelda, and died instantly.