"If the Twelve Gods are all evil liars… how come you worship one of them, Neptune?"
The sentence echoed around the empty courtyard, bouncing off of the dormitory buildings.
Eleanor stared at him for a long moment.
Then her lips curved into a smile. "Oh no, you caught me, Ryan." Her voice was dripping with mock-drama. "I am a death cultist. A demon lover. A worshipper of the dark lord, Pluto himself."
Ryan blinked.
"I've been secretly sacrificing horses on our journey," she continued, completely deadpan. "Blood rituals every Tuesday. Didn't you notice the smell?"
Despite everything, Ryan felt a laugh escape. "Eleanor—"
"Summoning circles under my bed. Dark incantations at midnight." She gestured dramatically. "The whole thing. Very evil. Very heretical, the Sanctum should burn me alive."
"Okay, okay—"
Her smile faded. The lightness drained from her voice. "I'm not a 'blood magicker' or a death cultist."
