The sounds of the city cut off almost immediately as they slowly floated down the cavern. Dust and ash hung in the dry, cool air. Bright green light emanating from Willow’s sword illuminated their surroundings, clashing with the glow of the blooming flower in Midhir’s pocket.
He felt lightheaded as they descended. It was difficult to believe that he had fallen all this way down and survived with no more than scratches and bruises. He still remembered the moment of the fall vividly – and the moment his consciousness was pulled into a realm beyond his own.
What felt like hours passed, and eventually their light reached the debris covered ground. Not long after, their feet touched the ground, and Willow’s winds vanished, along with the green glow of her sword’s pommel.
Only the blue-crimson light of the blooming flower was left to illuminate their surroundings.
“Hm?” Lonan turned towards him, his gaze fixed on the flower. “That’s…” his voice faded as he scowled. “Do you mind if I take a look? I hadn’t noticed it until now.”
“Sure.” He gently pulled the flower out of his pocket. “I found it down here, on the altar,” he glanced around to try and spot the altar, but all he saw was darkness. He couldn’t quite remember which way the altar was.
Lonan approached the flower, looking at it closely. “Amazing…” his voice grew sharper with excitement. “I’ve seen something similar to this in old texts! Very few of the alchemists texts and tomes survived the Bareon Disaster, but the few artifacts that were saved do mention a flower like this.” His eyes glimmered as he snapped his fingers in quick succession. “Ah, what did they call it…?”
A hand touched his shoulder, and Arwen clenched her fingers. Her face was as pale as a sheet of paper, and her lips were a thin line. Her intense gaze was fixed on the flower. “Pleroma.”
“Ah!” Lonan exclaimed. “Yes, they called it Pleroma blooms!” He paused for a split second, then glanced at her. “I’m surprised you know of it. Those artifacts haven’t been put in An’Larion’s museum yet.”
A moment reigned by tense silence passed before Alistair cleared his throat. “Arwen is taught by Solus Academy’s most prestigious professors, and she’s privy to more information due to her choice of weapon – crystal staff users immediately begin to learn about the veil.”
Arwen shot a cold glance at Alistair before curtly nodding. “Yes. I’m also interested in Eldoria’s history as a whole. Our academy’s library has many copies of old texts.”
“I see.” Lonan bowed his head slightly. “Please accept my apologies – these last few days have eroded my trust in everyone quite a bit.”
Arwen nodded once again. “Understandable.” She turned her gaze to the flower once more. “I can carry that for you.”
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Something in her voice made him hesitate. His instincts screamed not to let her touch it. As her hand reached for it, a sharp pain struck his left eye, causing him to reel back with a groan. He pressed his palm against his eye and stepped away from her.
“What’s wrong?” Willow rushed towards him. Her hand closed around something that appeared mid-air; something she summoned from her holding gem. Something golden glinted through her fingers. “Are you still wounded?” She asked, her voice rising with each word.
He shook his head as the pain began to subside. “I’m fine.” He grunted, then took a few deep breaths as the worried group crowded around him. Only Arwen stood in her place, her hand still hanging in the air, and her face twisted with concern, though the shadows hid most of her expression.
“I’m fine,” he repeated as the pain finally subsided completely. “I found the flower here, Arwen. It’s probably not safe – and I probably shouldn’t let go of it now.”
Arwen closed her eyes, her hands clenched around her staff. She was silent for a few short moments. “You should keep it close by,” she finally said with a cold voice. “I never saw it being mentioned as anything harmful. Perhaps it isn’t what’s not safe – perhaps it’s protecting you from whatever is causing you pain.”
Lonan shot her an odd look. “They called it their guiding light. Perhaps Lady Arwen is right.” His tone didn’t match his words. He seemed impressed, but far from convinced. “You said there was an altar here – perhaps that will provide us some answers.”
Alistair summoned his spear from his holding gem. “You should let one of the enforcers examine you – and it – when they arrive. Until then, however, there is little to be done, and more pressing matters.” He raised his chin. “I hope you understand, but we have half a day until nightfall.”
He understood. Alistair was acting as the future lord of Bareon – not as his gloomy, yet capable classmate. Destroying the altar as his father had commanded was their first priority. “Can you create us some light, Arwen?”
Before he even finished his words, her staff glowed golden. The light grew brighter as she focused. It formed into a small orb, and slowly started rising up. Like a small sun, it illuminated the whole cavern, completely doing away with the darkness.
Her resonance casting speed was impressive, but even more than that, her ability to continue holding a resonance so far away from her and her weapon was jaw-dropping. He couldn’t help but shoot her a surprised glance before focusing on the task at hand.
His gaze scoured their surroundings. The cavern seemed even larger now that it was fully revealed. The ceiling was so high up, and it looked like over half of Bareon could easily fit in here. Chalk coloured root-like formations were clearly visible on the slate surfaces of the cavern. There were more of them near the ground than near the ceiling, and following one of them with his gaze quickly led him to the altar at the centre of the gigantic cavern.
His chest tightened as he started walking towards it. “There,” he said softly, as his heart began to race. Footsteps echoed in the vast cavern as they neared the altar.
“Be careful near it,” he warned them, pointing at the chalk-roots covering the ground. “Don’t step on the roots.”
Lonan walked past him, right up to the altar, before he could even react. He ran his fingers on it, then inspected his hand. He shook his fingers, letting the dust particles fall of. “This is different from the monuments in the Old Growth.” He turned around to face them. “This isn’t an altar – it’s a focal point. An incomplete one.”
Arwen’s fingers tightened around the shaft of her staff. “Destroying it is not a good idea,” her voice was but a whisper. “Lest the cavern collapse and turn Bareon into a graveyard once more.”