III | The Fire-eater
Although he was many miles and hours away from her now and once again standing beside his gondola at the end of a fog-shrouded sacrificial pier (as he would be doing repeatedly over the month-long course of the Sacrificium), he was still thinking about his night with Chantilly when something moved amidst the gloom.
Only after a moment did the silhouette of a man emerge, and such was the size and build of him that Dravidian immediately unhooked his scythe and tapped his mask—it being his habit to confirm that his face was protected, for the mask had already become like a second skin even in his short time as a ferryman.
But the man did not step forward, and instead addressed Dravidian from precisely where he stood. “Are you dutiful? Honorable? Do you define yourself
