Rain not abated since the morning, continued ever more zealously in its mission to cleanse the filth tainting the once alabaster city built onto the sides of the Draemons Mountain and the valley between its peaks. Small rivers flowed on the streets, scraping off the dried blood as the magusos versed in the tenets of the Solemn Shepherd followed in the steps of the few legionariir, collecting corpses of the citizens, legionariir and the cultists alike.
Even the bridges connecting both sides once infested by life now hung above the gold and green depth solemnly, only a dozen folk walking across them, buying their necessary supplies to get day by day. Isocrates walked carefully, out of habit from the days when he had to jostle between orkhin, aevhei, dwarves, demikin and humans. All the races who had daily business on each of the One and the Eight bridges stretched across the long valley, in the brilliant shadow of the Radiant Keep hanging above, uncaring for the woes below.
For a moment, he stopped in the middle of the bridge dedicated to Septurrion, as his eyeless visage stared from the periodic columns erected by erudite hands of dwarves and the pariah folks of orkhin and northern humans who all once fought under the banner of Dusk. At least so he heard from it from his father as they made their way across, getting dough for the sweet bakeries which saccharine taste still lingered in his mouth on these bitter days as he leaned onto the thick, azure rail and stared into the distance blinded by the heavy rinsing accentuated by warm golden and verdant greens.
Since Luelia left to take care of some business given to her by Mirayroth, more of his dreams seemed to force their way out of the recesses of his mind. Dreams that gnawed more viciously than the ones of an alternate present of his. A dream in which he walked alone in a vast garden of myriad-colored flowers, foliage growing on trees he never seen before yet felt familiar just like the garden itself hanging above his head. Detailed to the point he could recount and retrace his steps if he would be allowed entrance within its premises.
Besides himself, there were folk in segmented panoply of chromatic cavalcade where crimson and purple reigned utmost amongst the flock of vibrance and perfectly symmetrical angularity. Helmets of fine curves, of soft flail of varying shades gently dancing as a draught both cold and warm swept through them greaves and breeches grown into each, the former like gloves protruded forth vambraces ending in draconic claws. He walked the straight, ceiled pathway with a singular purpose of seeking one who seemed dear to his heart.
From the ceiled pathway, he altered onto the earthen road grown over by silken soft grass of emerald green node and nightly golden seed and blades. Though before he would step onto it, he relieved his feet from the tight embrace of his own greaves with thunder ornamentation graven into its smooth, reflecting surface. An inelegant chuckle left his lips upon the grass brushing against his aching feet as he began walking, led by his intuition and an alluring and familiar scent hastening the pace of his heart.
When he reached what he sought he picked up on his pace upon hearing the soft, feminine chuckle of his beloved whom he wanted to reveal the contents of his heart. Yet he faltered at the second voice, deeper and just as familiar yet he could not associate a name to it in the waking world. But he knew the owner of that voice was related to the golden eyed Man, and was a fellow good friend of his adding weight to his pain. His own curiosity flown into the land of Onaeiron, giving him the power to unveil the dense foliage protruding from the myriad branches before him.
On the other side, he spotted a young draevhe of pale, snow white complexion whose enchanting, handsome face drawn in his attention and he felt his heart skipping a beat within the waking world and Oneiron at the same moment. Her slit pupiled eyes of flocked together vibrant colors gazed into the golden above her as she laid her head into the lap of the young man with golden eyes, aevhen and human lineaments and long dark hair knotted into a high and short tail. Both resting near a pond brimming with aquatic life while enjoying the soothing shadowy embrace of a tall, leaning willow bearing hanging leaves of onyx. Their gazes unified by love as strong as Maerhia and Iaunorh’s, sowed by their own divine children, Rheathor Deos of Unions and Seeder of Love.
Their murmurs laced with unabated love lingered still in his mind, gnawing away what little motivation remained within him to continue on with the day which end lingered in the unseen distance. “Are you ready Iso?” Came the voice which pushed it deeper into the gloomy waters of incumbrance. With a forced smile aimed at Luelia, he nodded and the two set out towards the Sleeping Nereid Inn.
**
“So, you say this, feline demikin merchant is the one supplying the cult?” Naghig asked raising his eyebrow, his low voice permeating the portentous silence lingering within the empty main section of the Inn bereft of life except for the agents of the New Dawn masquerading as drunkards whose liquid addiction overpowered their sense of survival. The three of them sat down at the corner table. Naghig listened through Isocrates’s explanation, his recounting of the first dream and the memories he gained from it. “I guess Septurrion and his kin are on our side.” He added while wiping off the foam from his lips and tusks.
“We should eliminate him as soon as possible.” Luelia said confidently while rotating her finger wreathed in mana above her keg of saccharine cherry flavored beverage. Naghig groaned before answering, his mind whirring through motions. On one hand he agreed with the bloodthirsty princess, but on the other hand he knew it was more profitable to have Proclus on their side.
“What are your thoughts on this boy?” Before he voiced his own piece, Naghig turned at Isocrates and asked. The question brought him out from his sullen stupor and he diverted his gaze away from his own reflection in the bitter mead which lessened the irrational aching within his heart. “Honestly I am not fully sure. Killing him is a reasonable choice for his betrayal of the Empire… but on the other hand if we could convince him to change sides, he could prove to be treasury of knowledge on the Cult possibly. And of course, he could gain us a foothold on the upper levels.” Naghig nodded along as he himself agreed on those points besides his own veiled before the two.
“Visit our friend and if push comes to shove – then nothing we could have done about it.” After a long silence, he gave his orders. “What about Mirayroth?” Isocrates asked. “Do not worry boy. We are of one mind.”
**
“Here, grab on!” Amidst a series of whirring, Isocrates stretched down his artificial arm to Luelia whilst the other dug into the robust, gray stalactite wall. As he stared down at her, he quivered staring down at the vibrant depth. She wrapped her fingers around the gilded metal, then threw her up with a single motion towards the top rail of the golden wall of limestone and marble circling angularly around Proclus’s mansion. Then she stretched and strained his limbs, flowing mana into his arkhaine points before propelling himself beside her, clutching onto the ornated rail whilst the Illius’s rays shining through the rinsing dimmed gradually.
With soft thuds, the two landed on the thick grass covering the ground, their bodies completely invisible thanks to Luelia. Isocrates wrestled against his curiosity to ask on the nature of the spell as it differed vastly from the previous experiences. A primary difference being able to see Luelia, confusing his mind whether the spell worked or not whilst still being aware that his presence was veiled before others. Including the feline watcher turning at the right corner, staying far from the golden hedge rising high and permeating a sense of danger creeping into the two who stared at it.
“You sense it too?” Luelia asked in a whisper. Isocrates simply nodded hearing rustling of the spiky leaves before his eyes. Arkhaine veins slithered about within the white pond surrounding his pupils, amplifying his alertness to the vines moving surreptitiously within the shadows, waiting to lash out and grab any intruder. The two remained still, pondering on the best course to traverse across the hedge forming a maze around the isolated mansion on the mountainside.
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Whilst Isocrates inhaled the pleasantly cold mountainous air lingering in the great garden, Luelia remained calm and confident once they made their way towards the right. Though it faded when she felt the wet, chilling embrace of a slithering, hissing vine beneath her sole. Though her gaze swiftly jumped from the shrouded vine onto the wall of hedge rustled, parting before vine ending in a closed petal unfolding itself. She quickly reached to pinch her nose as the putrid smell of rotten flesh assaulted her nose and quivered noticing chunks of flesh hanging from the soft floral teeth dripping with saliva.
From the oval maw, guttural hisses turned into choking as an eye with oblong pupil appeared in hideous maw of a fusion between flesh and petal. An eye that glowed while veins similar to the ones adorning Isocrates’s appeared while it swept around, searching for the two. Without uttering a word, Luelia looked at Isocrates who masked well his own fear, and they slowly relapsed into careful motion, their gazes alternating between the creature’s small head and the vines slithering, hiding in the thick grass.
A small whirlpool dug aggressively into the earth and lifted out a piece of it across them. Then it hurled it further in at which the vine jerked its head towards then retreated suddenly into the fold of the hedge. The two waited for the rustling to finally abate before they continued on, Luelia navigating them as the outline burned into her mind. Occasionally, they stopped at the sound of rustling coming from within the dense foliage on both sides, cold sweat forming on their skin when the stench of carrion permeated the narrow pathway lit by the dim lights of the phasing Illius.
At long last, the two arrived at the courtyard surrounded by the wedge formation of hedge walls, each section a different shade. Emerald whence they came from and where the ravenous plant slithered waiting for its prey to reveal themselves, golden in the direction of the Illius and one dark as berries on their left. In the center a great fountain ceaselessly spewed effervescent water filling the marble pond. Both felt the mana faintly leaking from the marble blocks continuously reinforcing the spell cleansing and controlling the flow of water.
Without saying a word, Luelia reached out and placed her soft palm upon Isocrates’s bosom upon noticing the awkward movement of a dark grayish silhouette. She strained her eyes, her vision stretched towards the figure made out of polished stone possessing a vague, chiseled resemblance to an aevhe. “Golems.” She muttered, and both of them stayed in place once more, realizing the usual tactics won’t work on these guards. And realization dawned on Isocrates regarding his dream and why he and the golden eyed Man cut their way through the mansion instead of relying on subterfuge. To the point he began to raise his hand, channeling mana and focusing his mind to tame the clouds billowing far above them. Before he could call forth a thunder, Luelia stopped him and shook her head. “We shall sneak past them and deal with them after we finish our main business here. In the worst case at least.”
**
Steam risen forth the ceramic cup bearing a sneaking feline figure of thick, black fur with a long tail reaching a near circle. Framed on the top in crimson, on the bottom a crimson with both surfaces transmuted into a glassy state reflecting Proclus’s tired face, his pinkish small nose from which his peculiar whiskers protrude sniffing the stirring scent of the bitter tea. In his lap, a thick book in brownish hard cover laid, pages scribbled with profit numbers earned in the past two weeks.
Then his attention turned towards his right on the long sofa near the door, a silver furred little creature of his appearing out of nowhere purring upon noticing its master. It elegantly leapt onto the sloping arm, its claws digging into the leather covering of a deep black fitting with the gloomy brownish wall behind it. From there with another elegant leap, landed upon the ledger while its mewing echoed through the office.
Proclus held out his index finger and touched the gently sloping forehead of his cat, and as it blazed in etheric energies, fresh memories flown into his mind. Images flashed of the two creeping through the shadows, avoiding the golems he commissioned for his mansion. An occupational endeavor passed onto him from his unfortunate predecessor who himself believed in the cost efficiency of commissioning a set of these animated guards with sharp perception capable of picking up on the faintest draught of mana compared to hiring mercenaries, adventurers possessing the same ability. “Though I shouldn’t have skimped on them. Well in the worst case I shall order ones with higher grade perception.” He murmured to himself while looking into those lustrous, golden eyes.
Then came a sigh as he pondered more on the smaller details. “But I guess it would matter little if they got past the Ophidian Vine.” He relapsed suddenly into silence, sensing Luelia and Isocrates reaching near his office. With a snap of his fingers, the golem guards stopped for a moment, then made their way far from the office. “For now, let’s see if we can barter with her highness and her… companion. Now my dear, would you fetch two more cups please.”
The small, silver furred creature meowed a bit begrudgingly but turned around and held its paw into the air. On the drawer across them, just below a grand painting of his former home still ailing his dreams often, two similar cups rose into the air and gently soared across the dimly lit room. He quickly leaned forward – to the annoyance of the cat – reaching for the ear of the kettle to pour into each just as the two intruders of his mansion exited their stupor of the golem passing by and away.
“Welcome to my humble abode.” With a genial smile – appearing surreptitious to the two – he greeted them as soon as they flung the door open. Contrary to his expectation of the two hoping to surprise him, and slit his throat like most assassins, a sizzling streak of thunder approached swiftly towards his head. A sigh escaped his wide, dark lips and when he snapped the finger the two almost fell over.
Amidst the moaning of the wood, the shrieking of thunder, the room quickly expanded upon its own space by his will, lengthening and widening at the same time. He slowly arose from his lofty, comfortable seating whilst keeping his balance faultlessly. Another sigh escaped him when he heard the roar of the floor shattering when the thunder following in the steps of its conjurer collided with the expensive elm wood floor he commissioned and brought forth from the eastern side of central Vhalleryon.
“Here I am, preparing my finest tea, and they bring harm upon my home. Quite the rude folk he gathered.” He turned to his hissing feline companion, agent. His middle and index finger clasped together, curved up while dark, infernal energies poured forth the graven Taeberossian runes beneath his dark, dense fur. With a flick, Isocrates slowly getting onto his feet flung against the hardened wall and groaned before passing out from the agonies inflicted by the impact and by the spell casted by Proclus.
Whilst Luelia reached out to stir Isocrates, abruptly her hands battered against her sides, then curled and twisted behind her back whilst her legs simply halted at clinging against each other. Slowly she rose into the air and floated towards the approaching Proclus who continued sipping his tea which lost not a single drop during this minor incident. “Honestly I wanted to begin this… deal of ours on better foot.” He said calmly whilst the room croaked back into its previous length and width around them.
He placed Aurelithae down into the couch across him whilst Isocrates was restrained by dark tendrils. “There is no deal to be made here.” Aurelithae replied with a certain calm sprinkled by anger aimed at Proclus and herself.
The feline demikin clicked his tongues, shook his head in disapproval. “There is always a deal to be made. That much I learned through my life. And I can assure you, the information I possess weighs heavily on the scales.”
For a moment he waited, expecting a reply laced with her well-hidden anger. “For example, what the aim of the Beautiful is, and where she truly hides.”
“The Beautiful had been sealed away for a century now.” She replied suddenly. Proclus turned his head sideway whilst glancing at her inquisitively, reevaluating his previous and more positive perception on Aurelithae.
“Maybe I overestimated your highness…. no, no he couldn’t be wrong could he.” He mumbled whilst massaging his widely inclined forehead. “Well, I guess you only are aware of what your dear, dear father or the others have told you on what happened at Nidumiath.”
For a moment he stopped, moistened his drying tongue with the bitter, warm tea. “To keep this short, the seal had been broken and The Beautiful has – let us say – a better vessel amongst your family this time.” As the words registered, Aurelithae broke her own illusion for a short moment, but relapsed back quickly into her calm and regal demeanor.
Nonetheless, she remained silent, focusing on the unseen bindings whilst Proclus waited for an answer. Sensing her attempts at breaking free, he heaved the third and last sigh just as darkness began to spread across the boundless sky and the Illius began its change to assume its pallid silver form. “Tell my old friend, Mirayroth that I seek to speak with him. I shall relay all that I know for exchange of immunity from pesky attempts and of course for returning the two of you unharmend.” Beneath her a portal swallowed her before she could answer, then not long after she found herself and Isocrates on the white pavement lit by the warm glow seeping out from the windows of the Sleeping Nereid Inn.