Inside the temple, Eleanor was preparing the ritual, Maximian was helping, Disma was keeping watch outside, and Aaron was lost in thought.
He raised the hand holding the Sword of the Dark Moon. Selûne's moonlight still brimmed along its blade, dazzling in the dim inner sanctum and casting white reflections across his face.
A father's love was steadfast as a mountain, a mother's gentle as water. Selûne's power had always blessed Aaron's body, and this sword had been with him for several months now.
Yet just moments ago, when Aaron had tried to kill an enemy with its blade, an Illusion had suddenly appeared in his mind.
The Sword of the Dark Moon had changed. Hellish black flames shone along it, casting hungry shadows that dimmed even Selûne's moonlight. The otherworldly Eight-Pillar Emblem and the Chaos Star, wreathed in black fire, burned on its blade, while a voice kept shouting in Aaron's ears.
The voice whispered to Aaron in a thousand different ways. Whether issuing commands, offering suggestions, pleading, or testing and tempting him, it repeated the same demand over and over.
Blood! More blood!
Skulls! More skulls!
As though someone were whispering incessantly beside his ear, Aaron could hear the voice with absolute clarity. It pierced every barrier he had and reached deep into his soul. Rather than coming from outside, it seemed firmly rooted within his mind. The last time he had heard it was in the arena at the Restoration Army's camp. When he had defeated the Half-Orc Sword Saint, the voice had urged him toward more slaughter, more skulls.
Kill them all! Kill every last one of them!
"Khorne," Aaron whispered, invoking that forbidden name. Among mortals, only a handful dared speak the name of the Blood God upon the Brass Throne. Many craved power, but