The hairs on the back of Diran's neck stood up as the torches lit themselves, throwing the cavernous place into swaths of flickering light.  Something was going to happen.  Once Linai jumped down beside him, Diran let go of the rope and wandered forward to marvel at the piles of treasure.  "Your reward," he said, gesturing and giving her a little smile.  He didn't care for any of it.  Instead he continued toward the throne, seemingly drawn to it by a force he couldn't quite understand.<br/><br/>Before he went too far, though, the fire's shimmering heat seemed to condense on the throne, solidifying into a face that he knew very well.  The beast was just like those ink drawings in the books: the horns, the claws, and the long teeth like a skull's, bared in a permanent grin.   He was about to speak when Linai slipped in front of him, making him blink.  That was truly surprising, especially how warmly it made him feel about her.  "It's alright," Diran said as he carefully moved around her and her sword. He touched her arm as he passed, trying to reassure her.<br/><br/>Approaching the throne, Diran knelt and bowed his head in thanks as he listened to the god lament the death of his father.  His father was called a lunatic for keeping faithful to a dead god, and Diran, too, had been watched for hints of his father's madness when he was a child. They cast him out into the desert at 15 when they found him studying his father's books.  No one believe in their god back then, but they would see differently now.<br/><br/>"My father's life was dedicated to you. Your praise humbles me, as I'm sure it would humble him."  Diran stood again once the god had finished speaking to him, then he glanced at Linai to see if she was okay.  She seemed scared, her eyes told him as much, but he didn't blame her.  Diran suddenly changed his mind about her, then. He decided he would do his damnedest to make sure she didn't come to harm.<br/><br/>"What do you ask of us, my lord?"