The Problems Of The Eighth Earth 2

Old Meg made his way through the dimly lit passages of the underground hideout, the flickering light from the occasional candle casting elongated shadows on the walls. His steps were purposeful, each one bringing him closer to the room where his family awaited. The air was cool and damp, a constant reminder of their subterranean refuge.

He arrived at a special chamber, its atmosphere distinctly different from the rest of the hideout. The room was aglow with the soft light of white candles, their flames dancing gently, casting a warm, comforting glow. 

The wax-laden tables around the room bore witness to countless hours of vigil and prayer, the candles meticulously replaced to keep the sacred space illuminated.

At the center of this sanctified chamber stood a statue of a man, a heroic figure captured in the midst of battle. Shirtless and wielding a sword in each hand, the statue depicted him in the act of slaying a demon.