72Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡCPX9hYvtMlTHE TEMPLE COURTYARD — VILLAGE —
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Night presses down on the temple like a weight. The outer courts — the place where commoners once gathered are now vacant, what remains is hard dirt, cracked and uneven. The air is old and smokey. Torches spit and flutter along the brownish-red wall, throwing long, twitching shadows that make the priest look taller, thinner, more skeletal.
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Beyond the archway, the inner chamber of the marble glows faintly — white, polished. A stark contrast to the dirt beneath their sandals.
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A dozen priests stand in a circle.
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Their faces are tight.
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They're not here to pray — they're here to plot.
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Archeus stands among them, arms folded, trying to look calm. But he feels the pressure in the air. A darkened spiritual presence, A political tension. The sense that something ancient and cold is listening. At the center stands High Priest Zacharias, stout, rigid, his silhouette is framed by fire light. He looks like a statue carved from judgement itself.
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He doesn't speak.
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He waits.
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Priests:
"Master, we've obtained word this afternoon. From the fortress's castle raven."
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The priests shift. Even the torches seem to lean in. Zacharias doesn't turn. His gaze stays fixed on the darkness beyond the courtyard.
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Priest:
"There was an attack. The entire shipment, meant to secure our standing in the Providence — has been destroyed."
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A murmur ripples through the circle.
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Fear.
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Anger.
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Confusion.
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Zacharias closes his eyes, not in sorrow —but in disdain.
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Zacharias:
"Theron… he should have listened to me."
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His voice is low and soft. He breathes in slowly, as if drawing something from the earth itself.
The priest watch him —waiting for a decree, the next prophecy, the next command that will shape the fate of their people.
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Zacharias:
"We know this Metro…son of none…is temporarily head of the fortress castle."
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The circle tightens. Archeus swallows.
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"And, we also know that this man is a false prophet."
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The torches flicker violently. Fire light reflects from Zacharias's eyes.
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"He stirs the people with fear, gathering royal elites under his wing. His behavior is far too suspicious, all for the purpose of power and control.
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Priest 2:
"He led the congregation away from us, Rabbi. Away from the Temple!"
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Priest 3:
"What shall we do?" If the people follow him…our authority, our covenant — will crumble."
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The priest look around nervously, icy flames in their eyes. The dirt floor feels colder now. Zacharias lowers his gaze to the ground —staring at the dust like it's whispering secrets. His head lifts sharply. His eyes wide. The torches hiss along the brownish-red walls, dust swirls around the priest sandals.
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Zacharias:
"We… are the covenant people. Without us, the people are blind."
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His voice is heavy and loud, like a verdict being read out loud.
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"This man — this Metro — believes in his own spiritual authority. And in doing so, he has made a mockery of ours."
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A ripple of unease. Robes shift. Sandals scrape.The shadows seem to lean in.
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Priest 4:
"He's a threat… to the entire hierarchy."
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Priest 5:
"We must put an end to this blasphemy!" —
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Archeus steps forward, arms folded tight, his face lit by the trembling torch light.
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Archeus:
"That crop was the village's last lifeline. Hasan with certainty will come down upon this people —Enslaving, plundering, taxing a heavy burden upon the village as a whole."
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He glances around the circle, voice low but urgent.
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Archeus:
"The magic leaf was our last leverage, our currency…Our bargaining chip with the head of province."
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The priest shift uneasily. Zacharias lifts his chin, eyes darkened, unblinking.
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Zacharias:
"We must be the ones who act first."
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A hush falls. Even the torches seem to dim.
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Priest:
"What are we to do? the plan?— Rabbi…"
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Zacharias turns slowly, the firelight catching the hard lines of his face.
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Zacharias:
"Send word to Hasan."
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He looks directly at Archeus —a sharp command. Archeus stiffens, with his quill and leaves for parchment. He returns, and sits at his table.
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Zacharias:
"To His Excellency, Hasan, Ruler of The Providence."
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A grave matter has arisen within your fortress.
The Crop meant for tribute has been destroyed.
Many of your loyal men have perished.
Our standing in The Providence trembles.
We have reason to believe this was no accident.
Metro, the one temporarily placed over the fortress, has acted with suspicious autonomy.
He has stirred the people with false prophecy,
Leading them away from rightful authority,
and has positioned himself as a spiritual figure without sanction.
We fear internal conspiracy.
We fear he has taken the crop for himself,
or orchestrated its destruction to weaken your rule.
We request that Metro be summoned for questioning, before the people are further misled, and The Providence suffers greater loss.
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Your loyal servant, High Priest Zacharias.
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Archeus finishes the last line. His hand is steady, but his eyes aren't. The ink dries fast in cold air, each word heavier than the last. He stares at the parchment —feeling the weight of what he's done. A breath catches in his throat. He almost speaks. But Zacharias is watching him. Archeus swallows. He folds the parchment with careful deliberate precision — as if the slightest mistake might damn him further. The wax is melted. The seal pressed. The emblem burns into the paper with a hiss. A priest brings the raven forward. Its wings twitch. Its eyes gleam red already knowing the message is poison.
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Archeus hesitates. Just a heartbeat. He looks at Zacharias — searching for mercy, for doubt, for anything human.
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Zacharias gives him nothing.
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Only a slow, expectant nod. Archeus ties the letter to the raven's leg. His fingers linger —guilt tightening in his chest. A silent plea internally.
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He exhales.
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Soft.
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Barely audible.
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Archeus:
"… forgive me."
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He releases the bird. The raven explodes upward, wings cutting through torchlight, dissapearing into the night —carrying betrayal. Carrying the spark of war.
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Archeus watches till the darkness swallows it whole.
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His hand are at his sides, Eyes to the night.
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Empty and Cold.
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— scene fades black —
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— switch scene —
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and then Add to home screen.