The path led us downward, further and further, until the air began to feel warmer, and our breath no longer misted in front of our faces. We reached another subterranean complex, identical in style and appearance to the area we had left behind. There was every indication of the cult’s presence here: modern instruments and fresh supplies lay in disarray all over the room.

There was no time to examine them, however. I knew we had to act quickly, and I could see my anguish reflected in my companions’ eyes. The faint sounds that had seemed to expand and rise as we descended had now grown loud enough to follow with ease.

The music of the voices held dark depths of despair and peril. The chant rose in a crescendo, and at its peak a brief quake shook the entire mountain. My soul quivered too, as if it was no more than a candle’s weakly flickering flame.