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POV: Alark & Elders
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Alark stared at the waves of heat diffracting the visage of the still-hot layer of dust now coating the ground. It had once been a finely crafted table, which he now entirely expected would be his responsibility to pay.
A voice broke him from his dissociative stupor.
"THE ENTIRETY OF THE SANCTUARY?! GONE?!"
The voice of the elder stormed through the room; even the dust began to level out, as if it had been shaken through a sieve.
"By an imp no less..." another chimed in.
"Do you think we're idiots?!"
A third, relatively calmer than the first voice, chimed in. However, his white-piercing eyes were by far more terrifying than the rest. His face was wizened, but his eyes retained the malice of his youth in the outside world.
You either go until you die, or you settle and found an outpost of your own.
He was one of those minuscule few.
"Of course not. You can go and see the imp for yourself, or perhaps you should oversee the evolution ceremony for once."
Alark had known these three for a long time now. They were once legendary figures from his prior childhood perspective, but now he saw them only as survivors of a vile life, ones who gained no actual skill in leadership.
As the apprentice curator, he had to show them a confident gaze and speak with explicit ease; even if it angered them to the point of killing him, this was the path he chose.
Bael, the loudest, went to open his mouth once more. However, he was cut off by Ana, the youngest and quietest of the bunch.
"Calm down, Bael. It's outside of our control right now."
Even through his shouting, her words would cut through the blistering noise. But she wouldn't wait for that to happen.
Perhaps her demeanour was the best lesson she had learned from being his former apprentice when Bael was the curator himself.
Bael looked up at her, breathing through his nose several times to alleviate his rage.
"If he is lying, he will lose everything and live the life of a slave."
Bael now spoke calmly, seemingly happy with his response.
Alark had a slight pained expression on his face, but he was confident that he was in the right. He wanted to speak some more, but stopped himself upon seeing the final elder reopen the eyes deeply nested on his grim face.
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The founder, Elech, flicked his grey-white eyes up to meet Alark's. He flinched, but this was unsurprising to him—there were none who could adequately meet his gaze.
"Truth or not, it is your responsibility, even if it is not your fault. That is your oath as the apprentice curator. There are no easy exits in my outpost; depending on the cost of this failure, you could lose everything you own and everything you will ever own, curator or not."
He spoke in a calm but ruthless monotone. The words were slow and enunciated with clarity, as if to convey the weight of his punishment.
Alark felt sick.
He held his shaking hand behind his back.
He knew what those words implied. He knew that he would lose his ambition and his chance for the capitol, that he would become the outpost curator in name only and be nothing more than a puppet pulled by the endless ambition of the founder.
Bael looked at his former master with a strange glint, like this move was too far.
Ana also looked at him, but with a knowing... almost derisive look, nearly perfectly hidden in her purple irises.
Alark didn't have the peace of mind to ponder the intentions of the elders right now. He only felt a sense of powerlessness. He could not control the cost of this loss.
At the same time, it would be childish to place the complete blame on this imp, who knew nothing. But he couldn't help but feel that it would have been better if she had never existed or come here.
He knew it was wrong of him and that it was his responsibility, but he could not dampen the anger he felt in his heart.
He could not handle the thought of losing his dreams, the dreams he had sacrificed so much for already.
Yet he looked back towards Elech, whose eyes glowed with the same light that flooded the outpost and this very room but with a much more cold and unknowable profundity.
Alark felt it was a mastered imitation, like the stare of a wild beast whose terrifying visage masked their weakness.
He would give no indication of his thoughts, however.
"I... I understand, and I take full responsibility."
His words were brief, and they held the odd calm that came with the acceptance of complete powerlessness...
Alark did not wait for a reply and chose to turn on his heel and walk back towards the only entrance.
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POV: Syrin
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I continued resting on the demon's back and found myself descending a long and winding set of spiral stairs.
They were oddly cheap in comparison to the rest of this place, and I had started getting dizzy from the constant bobbing of my head as she walked.
We must be wondering all the way to the bottom of this cavern.
I got a good look at the bridge we would have used to get here, and it seems this entire place is sitting on a flimsy pillar of stone.
Though I imagine it is anything but flimsy.
Still, it seems like an obvious weak point to me, but I guess that's intentional...
Finally, a small opening came into view. A golden light reached through the doorway, contrasting the dull stairway, and a vast expanse met my eyes as we walked through.
There were a few shades of grass, various types of stone piled into different structures scattered around the domain, and even several large trees that could easily be traversed between.
I didn't expect such a place here.
Beneath us was a layer of red sand that spanned a large ring, and like a seed, it sprouted many paths that snaked around the entire space.
Looking closely, I could see a few imps climbing the rocks and trees or even fighting in the grass.
This is... less ruthless than I expected.
Now that I think about it, this must be this woman's occupation or something. Does she raise all of the imps?
Wait. I thought I was special?!
Frowning, I jumped from her back onto the hot sand below, but I grew distracted as I dug my hands and claws into the sand.
Oooh, it has so much friction. This is perfect for working on my scales. Damn, this is pampering at its finest; perhaps I can forgive her for the time being, hehe.