Miriel finished healing the wound. "There," she whispered. "That's the best I can do for now."
"Thank you," Hanry repeated, his voice rough. He flexed his healed arm, wincing slightly at the residual stiffness. "We need to find a way out. But with that lunatic…"
"Maybe she knows a way," Miriel offered hesitantly. "She seems familiar with this place."
Hanry snorted. "Familiar? She lives here. In this slaughterhouse. She probably built it herself." He shook his head.
"We can't trust her. But…" He looked at the closed door, then back at Miriel's exhausted, frightened face. His jaw tightened with resolve. "… we may have no choice. For now, we rest. Recover what strength we can."
He forced a small, reassuring smile. "Stay near me, Saintess."
Miriel nodded, moving instinctively closer to him, finding comfort in his solid presence despite everything. The golden light faded from her hands. In the dim, blood-soaked room, surrounded by the remains of monsters, the Saintess and her Squire huddled together, a fragile island of humanity amidst the chaos, utterly dependent on the whims of their savior.
Sleep, when it came, was fitful and plagued by nightmares of snapping jaws and cold, black eyes.
After a few restless hours, they woke with a start, disoriented in the dim, oppressive room. The smell of blood and decay was still there in their nostrils, choking. They shared a look of mutual dread and weariness.
"We should see what's out there," Hanry said, his voice hoarse. He pushed himself to his feet, offering a hand to help Miriel up. "Stay behind me."
Miriel nodded, her heart pounded as they approached the heavy wooden door. Hanry eased it open a crack, peering cautiously into the next chamber.
His eyes widened, and he froze. Miriel, sensing his reaction, craned her neck to see. A gasp escaped her lips.
The room beyond was larger and even more horrifying than the one they had woken in. This was a torture chamber straight out of a nightmare.
Racks stretched agonized victims – or rather, the shredded remains of them, both monster and humanoid. Iron maidens stood open, revealing wicked spikes crusted with dried blood. Chains dangled from the ceiling, some ending in manacles, others in cruel hooks. Wooden frames held partial skeletons in unnatural poses. Stone tables were stained dark with countless spills.
In the center of it all stood the woman. She was bent over a workbench covered in gruesome implements – knives, saws, pliers, and things Hanry couldn't even name. She was muttering incoherently to herself, her movements quick and jerky.
She picked up a heavy bone saw and began rhythmically scraping it along the edge of a stone table, producing an awful, grinding shriek echoed in the chamber. "… need more teeth… yes, more teeth… for the grinder… grind the bones… make the flour… flour for the cake…"
She giggled, a high, unsettling sound. "Cake for the children… children in the dark… oh, how they scream…"
Hanry recoiled instinctively. Miriel clapped a hand over her mouth, stifling a scream. The sheer, chaotic psychosis radiating from Evelyn was palpable.
"G-God," Miriel whimpered. "She's… she's utterly mad."
Hanry took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "Stay quiet," he hissed. "Maybe we can slip past her…" But as he watched, Evelyn abruptly stop scraping and whirl around, her black eyes scanning the room with preternatural alertness, he knew that was impossible.
Evelyn spotted them. Her head tilted slowly to the side. "Oh. Awake. Good." Her voice shifted from the frantic muttering to its previous, unsettling calm. She placed the saw down gently. "Hungry, are you?"
Hanry swallowed hard, forcing himself to speak. "We… we lost all our supplies. On the run. We need… food. And water. Please."
Evelyn smiled, a chilling curve of her lips. "Food. Yes. Of course." She walked towards them, her steps smooth. "There is food here. Plenty of it." She stopped before them, her gaze lingering on the Saintess, roaming over her disheveled form.
Miriel's trembling finger pointed towards the gruesome tableaux surrounding them – the mangled slime sacks, the dismembered goblin limbs, the charred wolf carcass. "You… you mean those?" Her voice cracked, horrified disbelief etched on her pale face.
Evelyn remained silent.
"Are you out of your fucking mind?!" Hanry exploded, his fear momentarily overridden by rage and disgust. "We shall not eating that filth! We are leaving! Now!" He grabbed Miriel's arm and started to pull her back towards the room they came from.
Evelyn's laughter, a sharp, manic cackle, echoed through the chamber, bouncing off the blood-spattered walls. "Leaving?" she scoffed. "Leaving? To go where, little puppy? Back out into the arms of the horde? Or perhaps," she gestured vaguely at the walls, "you'd like to try crawling through solid rock? Oh, that'll be amusing to watch."
She sauntered towards them. "Don't be so dramatic," she purred, stopping uncomfortably close.
"I promised food, didn't I?" She reached into a pouch at her hip and pulled out two chunks of dark, glistening meat, pulsing slightly. In her other hand, she produced two wooden cups filled with thick, milky white liquid.
"Here," she thrust them towards the duo. "Straight from the source. The purest essence of the Goddess Herself."
Hanry recoiled violently, slapping the proffered items away. "Get that away from us! That's disgusting! That's… that's… what is that even?! It looks like it's still moving!"
Evelyn's smile vanished, replaced by a scowl. She grabbed the fallen meat and liquid, shoving them back into the pouch with jerky, irritated movements. "Ungrateful wretches!" she hissed. "I offer you the most divine sustenance in all creation, the very blood and flesh of the Goddess Herself, harvested from the chosen vessels…" Her eyes flickered crazily towards the torture devices, "… and you spurn it? You spit on Her generosity?"
Before the squire could react, Evelyn snatched up the dropped meat and took a bite. Thick, dark juice ran down her chin. She chewed with exaggerated relish. "Mmm… exquisite!" She then tipped one of the cups to her lips, drinking deeply. The milky liquid dribbled onto her pale skin.
"Nectar of the heavens!" she declared, wiping her mouth by the back of her hand. "There. See? Perfectly safe. Divine, even."
She pulled out another two pieces of meat and two cups of white liquid from her seemingly bottomless pouch.
"Now. Eat." Her voice had turned cold, commanding. "Before I decide your own flesh might make a tastier meal."
Hanry and Miriel stared at the offered food, revulsion warring against desperation. Their stomachs rumbled loudly, betraying their hunger. They had run for god knew how long on scraps, adrenaline, and sheer willpower.
Miriel looked at Hanry, her eyes wide with terror and uncertainty.
"She… she ate it," Miriel whispered, her voice trembling. "And… and she seems… fine."
Hanry's jaw clenched. His eyes met Evelyn's unyielding black stare. The promise of violence hung thick in the air. With a growl of defeat, he snatched a piece of the pulsing meat and one of the cups. Miriel, after a moment's hesitation, did the same.
"Good puppies," Evelyn cooed, her unsettling smile returning. "Eat. Drink. Feel the power of the Goddess."
Hesitantly holding his breath, Hanry took a small bite of the meat. To his utter shock, it wasn't terrible. It was rich, gamey, almost sweet. He forced himself to chew and swallow.
Miriel took a timid sip of the liquid. It was thick, warm, and surprisingly creamy, with a slightly sweet aftertaste. Hunger overriding revulsion, they began to eat in earnest, their movements hesitant but driven by need.
Evelyn watched them, a satisfied glint in her eyes. "Yes… eat… drink…" she whispered, almost tenderly. "Soon… very soon… you will understand the glory… the true purpose…" Her voice trailed off into manic murmurs as she began to pace, her thoughts once again spiraling into chaos. "… the children will sing… the goddess will smile…"
Hanry and Miriel ate in silence, their eyes darting nervously between their disturbing savior and the horrors surrounding them.
Finishing the strange, sustaining meal, Hanry felt an unwelcome surge of energy, his hunger satisfied but his stomach churning with unease. He looked at Miriel. Her color had improved slightly, though her expression remained deeply troubled.
Hanry cleared his throat, addressing Evelyn. "Thank you for the… food. And the healing potions." The words tasted like ashes in his mouth, but he forced them out. "We need to leave. Can you show us a way out of this dungeon? A way back to the surface?"