Fractal Jigsaw

The temple looked bleak. The tireless priests working for the Goddess were as stony as ever, pouring Her blessings over him – blood red. He was still panting, and shivered as the liquid wetted his hair, burning his cuts and soothing his sores. He looked at the demonic idol’s eyes scorching into the infinity pillar far behind him in awe. The sheer power and beauty the black idol possessed was enough for him to do anything.

‘Anything?’

He looked down at his hands as the blood mixed with the purifier, blending into one as it flowed away, as though nothing had happened – that everything can be done to preserve the state of order of the Temple.
He was still shaking as he heard the soldiers – his pursuers – bang on those heavy gates of the temple. He heard the calls for his immediate surrender from the Cruent officers as their pale rods rapped on the door, threatening to pull it away from its hinges.
The priests continued with their whispered ritual prayers, paying no heed to the soldiers setting up for a siege.
He heard three men talk far beyond the infinity pillar, far beyond the stolid walls of the temple, speaking of even justice and even fall on the Temple. It had robbed them, and the city, of everything. They spoke in quiet whispers and the Disciple could hear them.
He looked up to the idol, and touched his sword as the ritual ended.

“You have succeeded.” One of the priests whispered to him, as he passed by.

“I do not know, master. I have heard things.”

“The heretics have their ways, and so do the atheists. Our chancery will fall tonight, but our Temple will remain.”

“Are we not to fight?” He blinked, as the choir started their chants, offering crimson glories to the idol. The flowers tenderly split into pieces as they touched the idol’s head, falling as a fiery red storm.

“We will. We always have. But you have to leave.” The old priest smiled.