[ Away from the prying eyes of the priests and guards, but the incense still lingers in the air, a heavy scent. The hallways slope down just enough that she has to watch her step, careful where she places her feet, and she's reminded of the descent down to the dungeons in her uncle's castle. In the Jin hostage camps.

They aren't places she wants to be again, but the atmosphere is too heavy to ignore those thoughts, and whispers try to break her concentration, the same horrible whispers of the undead her uncle controlled, seeking her blood. ]

This god must be powerful if they've chained him up beneath a temple.

[ Hopefully he's not.

She glances at Elayne's face, noting the calm expression and the lack of reaction. She looks harmless, but Wen Qing knows better. ]

Do you remember what they said about the god? I don't.