The darkness feels like the gaping maws of a giant beast, threatening to snuff out their flickering flame. Ambrose’s light steps ring out in the silent expanse, like a melody calling out to the beast around them. As Ambrose waves the torch in front of her, more empty braziers greet them. Their light long gone, their kindling removed.
Anastasia’s breath is heavy, that feeling when they first arrived so long ago drawing back in, suffocating her in its atmosphere. Meize, in turn, is handling it better this time. More focused, perhaps because the pain is a sharp cut across any emotional turmoil. His steps are a little unsteady, but he keeps his eyes trained on the darkness around them.
Bunny clutches her staff tightly, her eyes scouring the darkness. She moves a little slower than the rest, half a step behind, her staff glowing softly. Ambrose continues forward. Her torch pushes back the shadows with each step, scattered remnants of the shrine’s history flickering in the flames light. Support beams stretch between the room’s sections, a closer look revealing numerous teeth marks cut across them. Something she hadn’t noticed the first time they were here.
Glancing below, Ambrose notices the same against parts of the flooring. Something clatters in the distance, and the group whirl around to face it warily. Silence greets them. Then, after a tense moment, a small light flickers into existence. Far across the room to the other side, it partially lights up a kneeling figure.
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The group look at each other, before Ambrose steps toward the light. Nothing interrupts them as they move. As they grow closer, Ambrose makes out the frail figure of the old man they had once met, kneeling in front of the shrines stone figurehead; the nine-tailed fox. Its nine tails each possess an eye at their end, their gaze toward the moon above.
A low murmuring escapes from the man’s mouth, too soft for them to hear from afar. Ambrose continues forward, and after a moment find herself a few steps away from the man. His murmuring suddenly stops, and Ambrose takes a good look at him.
His skin is pale, almost translucent as it sags on his bones. A musky, damp scent wafts from his figure, the light partially illuminating his face as Ambrose steps around him.
“So you have come.” The voice is strong, unbroken in contrast to the man’s frail frame. The old man slowly stands up, turning himself to face the four of them. In the middle of his chest is a necklace, with a wolf’s teeth clearly engraved with a single letter. T.
“Talin.” Ambrose says harshly, the others tensing at the revelation.
“I see you have pieced together some clues.” He adjusts his clothes, their make rather clean compared to the rest of the village’s clothing. His clear blue eyes peer into their own, an almost callous disinterest filling them. “I am that which you hunt. An Arthreeki.” His voice breaks at the word, that discordant mix of disharmony they had often heard filling their ears. “A Sin Eater.”
“So quick to act.” The Arthreeki’s laughs scratches against their ear drums, as the four of them tense further with readied weapons. “Never understanding a thing. So brave. So strong. So…stupid.”