‘The Nemesis Arch,’ the priest said, studying his face. ‘While Trogir waged his war, the other seven gods had not been idle. They built this structure using all their might and wisdom, a thing capable of transporting the dark god from this world and trapping him forever in the Void. When Trogir finally fought Lorgukk, he drove him towards this arch with the aim of forcing him through it.’

It was a story Lann was familiar with. Indeed, he had seen similar friezes, albeit in a much poorer state, in an old temple not too far from the Maiden’s Fingers. There, the image of Trogir bundling Lorgukk through the archway was the final panel. In the circular room he now stood in, there were more to come.

In the next picture, Lorgukk teetered on the threshold of the dark oblivion described by the arch. The dark god’s left hand appeared to be reaching into his own chest.

The priest continued: ‘The dark god knew he must leave a part of himself behind if he were to ever return, so he tore free his own heart and managed to throw it, unseen, behind him into the human world.’

‘What happened to it?’

‘It was lost. Some say the old gods destroyed it. Others say it was rescued by the people of the West, a terrible people who were later to become the Hasz’een. We must pray they never cross the seas to these lands again.’

‘They were defeated when they last came. At Dreuvn Val.’

The priest nodded. ‘Your aunt has taught you well. But that defeat has never been forgiven in the land of Hasz. One day, they will seek revenge.’ He paused. ‘One way or another.’

‘The heart? It is the dark god’s only hope of ever returning to this realm?’

‘That is what is said, yes. But there is still some of our legend to tell.’ He nodded for the boy to move on to the next panel.

‘Trogir and the Dreadblade had vanquished their enemy and driven the monsters out of this world. But the victory came at a high price. The power of the Dreadblade sent Trogir mad. He believed the world would be better under the dominion of just one deity: its saviour. So he set about trying to destroy the other gods. But his efforts with the dark god had left him weak, and he was no match for the Seven. They wrestled the black blade from his possession, and Morinar, the sea god, called up a great storm that swept Trogir up to drown him in the Sea of Tears.’

‘Were they successful? Did he drown?’ Lann asked, staring at the last panel beside the doorway. It depicted an ocean in the midst of a terrible tempest. There was a vast circular void among the waves, a swirling vortex into which the mad god, carried on the winds, was pitched.