We’d gotten lucky. Very lucky. The object we’d sprinted down here hoping to find was right there, still strapped to the guardian’s belt. The pious fucker had been stupid enough to carry around one of Madra’s ridiculous plague bags on his hip. But she was the one arrogant enough to believe herself a god. The plague bags were full of ashes from the sacrifices who were burned in Madra’s honor… but they also contained her hair.
