A Midwinter SacrificeGallion held the knife above the boy lying on the altar. The blade glinted in the light from the pyre. The boy's eyes were wide, his breathing rapid, but he didn't flinch. Of course, he didn't flinch. No bonds held him. He longed for the knife. In that moment he could flee the troubled world and be taken to his deathless paradise. A moment's agony, a small price to pay.
Gallion spoke to the hooded figures surrounding the altar, assembled there for the midwinter sacrifice.
“Leave us. Mortal eyes may not gaze upon the face of Az.”
The lower priests filed out of the sanctum sanctorum, heads bowed, chanting. Out into the great courtyard, its stones slippery with trodden snow. The last priest pulled the wooden doors closed behind him. They would be sealed with silk ropes
