Prologue

Prologue

Rough fingers pressed cartridges into the cylinder of a revolver barely visible in the dark. Each clicked into place, the sound echoing -steady, unhurried- then faded.

Time held its breath, until sandalled feet slapped against stone, the sound making the stillness shiver. Moments later, a blade of sickly light split the dark as ancient doors groaned open, cutting across stone floor.

A figure stepped into the light, slowing as his eyes adjusted.

His sandalled feet stilled as the silhouette came into focus.

The priest’s eyes widened, then steadied.

His mouth opened.

A single shot fractured the silence.

The priest fell before the echo died.