Ethemon led the others into the temple, and the moment they stepped across the threshold, a heavy, suffocating atmosphere washed over them. The air was thick with the stench of decay and antiquity. Bhaal's cultists seemed to have known Ethemon was coming, ignoring them entirely.
"This place never changes," Ethemon murmured, his gaze sweeping slowly over every decoration in the temple.
The once-exquisite stone pillars were now riddled with holes, eroded beyond recognition by blood and filth. The carved patterns were mutilated, as if clawed by savage talons. Piles of corpses lay heaped like small mountains at the base of the pillars; some flesh had not yet fully decayed, exposed muscles and viscera giving off a nauseating stench in the dim light as swarms of black flies buzzed through the air.
Chapter 145