Walibeld took two quick steps back and drew his sword from its sheath, his head wildly swiveling side to side so as to not miss a single detail. However, as the door opened, slowly creaking inward until it could no longer, nothing happened. There was no other movement or sound, save for Leo’s heavy breathing and shifting feet. Trenton grabbed Leo, making sure he was still with them, and began to follow Walibeld as he crept into the room.

The chamber they entered into was one which could only be described as palatial. The walls and floor were adorned with intricately woven drapes, their fine silks embroidered with different black symbols unfamiliar to Trenton. From the ceiling, a great chandelier hung, its many glass and golden accents twinkling with a dazzling, magical light. The ground was lined with hundreds of wooden benches, one large pathway in the middle leading to a 20 foot altar at the back of the room. The benches looked old and rickety, but still oddly stable, a miracle given their presumed age. Around the altar, spread out evenly and filling the entirety of the far wall, were 14 brilliantly designed mosaics, each one depicting an ethereal, godlike figure with every color imaginable, large name plates clearly visible underneath them. Trenton had known opulence for much of his life, the Boulregaurd mansion being a testament to his fathers will and fortune, but this was a level beyond even him. This was the riches only a king could afford.

At the far end, illuminated well from the light's all about the room, sat a figure on one of the benches, his head cocked upwards to gaze upon the mosaics. He sat there silently, never moving or shifting, his entire body locked on what lay before him.

“Who are you, and what is it you’re doing here?” Walibeld shouted across, his voice echoing around the room.

“Calm, man. I am friend. I would see you neither harm nor ill will, not mine, at least. Please, sit with me. I’ve been waiting for you,” the man said, never taking his eyes off of the wall.

Walibeld stood there for a moment, gaze locked on the man, before sheathing his blade and untensing his body. Trenton wasn’t certain exactly what it was that made Walibeld suddenly so calm, but he was able to feel Walibeld extending his presence towards the man for a moment, clearly feeling for something. Maybe it was something about the man’s presence that instilled him with such trust. They walked forward, unabated now with the hostile confrontations out of the way, and approached the man.

As they walked closer, Trenton was able to notice more details about him that he couldn’t see before. At first he looked pretty normal, a tall elf with black hair and well built muscles. But as Trenton stood next to the man, Walibeld now hanging slightly behind, he could see that the man’s iris’s were an almost iridescent deep blue, a hue that Trenton didn’t think was possible for someone to have. He had these two thin blue streaks, one on each eye, curving from his tear ducts to his chin. They almost looked like the path tears would take. On top of that, he could see that the man had an odd, almost translucent blue glow to his entire figure, something Trenton had never seen before. It was faint and difficult to notice, but it was definitely there, as if his skin itself was ebullient.

Without looking, he patted the bench next to him, “Sit,” Trenton sat down, looking intently at the man as he began to speak. "It’s odd, isn’t it? Despite this entire cathedral being dedicated to the gods and their worship, they only thought to protect this one room against natures decay. Well, it just so happens that the other rooms you walked through to get here were actually the general areas, the places where the common folk were allowed to come in and worship. This room, however, was deemed elite. Only anointed few were allowed within this room, its chambers deemed holy ground too grand for most any to enter,” he paused, even now looking upon the mosaics highlighting the wall in front of them. Trenton followed his gaze, looking across the different portraits, and realized for the first time what they were actually supposed to be.

Phleminth

–Goddess of Fire–

Frosis

–Goddess of Ice–

Avarinos

–God of Air–

Hyphillian

–Goddess of Water–

Lusilus

–God of Lightning–

Rovilith

–God of Time–

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Raligoth

–God of Space–

Reltair

–God of Gravity–

Litea

–Goddess of Light–

Drorvin

–God of Darkness–

Gaos

–God of Earth–

Velistus

–God of Enhancement–

Ayivan

–Goddess of Nature–

Zamiliair

–God of the Mind–

The fourteen gods, each one representing one of the fourteen fundamental magic types. Although Trenton had heard their names before, and generally heard what they looked like, he’d never actually seen pictures of them. Because of how revered they were, the creators of existence and what not, they were deemed to be too important to be drawn by anyone who was not certified by Iradel. Because of this rule, Trenton thought Iradel was the only place in the world where there were pictures of the gods, but here they were in all their glory right in front of him.

“I suppose you don’t know where you are, do you? I doubt even you would know of this place, Walibeld. It’s older than even you by some years. Where we are sitting is the ruins of what was once the Citadel, the largest city ever built, and home to the largest holy congregation ever conceived, this cathedral being their castle where their leaders lived. Construction on this particular building began nearly two millennia ago, in the year 634 A.G. and was considered to be the starting point of the Era of the Citadel, a time period lasting up until its collapse in 1139 A.G. During this time, the Citadel controlled most of the world, its religious influences expanding all across the continent, meaning practically anything you did would be subject to their control. It was actually this ideal that Hrothalagus ended up trying to match after the Citadel fell, but his empire landed much short of this one,” the man said, taking a moment to breathe.

“How is it you’re so knowledgeable on this matter? I’ve been trying to scrap together information about this period of time for centuries to no avail,” Walibeld said, his right eye squinted in suspicion.

“I’m not surprised. The man responsible for the destruction of the Citadel destroyed many of the documents which proves its existence. By my best guess, he was trying to delete the ideology of the devoutly religious. As for how I am knowing, I was there, of a sort,” he looked at Walibeld, his vaguely youthful features standing out to Trenton now that he was looking away from the wall, “We are kin, are we not? I suppose you rather hail from an old friend of mine–an elf by the name Nasiphiles–instead of me, but, nevermind that. It’s not of any importance. I’m nearly finished with my tale, anyway,” he turned his eyes back to the mosaics, “The leadership of the Citadel were called the gods chosen, fourteen sacred beings whose powers derived themselves from the very gods themselves. They were the special clergy that took up worship in this room, ruling the world from under their gods thumbs, and it’s possible it might have stayed that way forever. However, foolishly, the chosen of time, their undisputed leader, ousted the chosen of darkness, who had committed himself to an act of great kindness, which did not benefit the church. This man, now consumed by the dark magicks he carried with him, turned on the rest of the clergy, joining forces with a hero named Dragovasin to overthrow the Citadel in its entirety. During this fight, the Citadel was burned to the ground, Dragovasin’s great fires cleansing the damned city streets, the rejected chosens darkness consuming whatever remained. Very little escaped this battle alive, the only survivors being the chosen of time, the chosen of space, the chosen of gravity, and the chosen of darkness himself, but it was a resounding victory for the chosen of darkness. He had managed to destroy the Citadel in its entirety, driving the other three chosen northeast to where they still dwell today in Iradel. However, for whatever reason, the chosen of darkness chose to settle elsewhere in the world, deciding against hunting down the remaining three clergy. I could not tell you why, nor would I think it fit for me to do so. If you wish to know more, you may speak to this man yourself about the particulars, if you can find him. What I will say instead is this final comment. The gods were not present the day the Citadel fell, and their eyes have never once grazed this place since,” the man finished, his eyes turning to face Trenton for the first time, his presence washing over the room like soothing ocean waves. “I have gifts for you, from one friend to another. I understand you are not ready yet, so I’ll gladly bide my time. Take these as a token of my good faith,” he handed Trenton an intricate necklace with a brilliantly carved blue gem in the middle and a book, leather bound with gold trims.

Trenton took the gifts, taking a moment to inspect each one closely. The necklace seemed to be of a make greater than anything he had ever seen before. Its silver tendrils were interwoven into a pattern so fine and complex that it likely couldn’t be matched by even Daselliums finest jewel carvers, not to mention the brilliant sparkling blue gem in the middle glowing with some sort of magical energy. Something like this should cost hundreds of thousands of gold, maybe even millions, but he was just given it for absolutely nothing in return. It was almost too incredible to believe.

Trenton looked at the book, its fine tanned surface betraying its apparent quality, as well. Just like the necklace, it was brilliantly crafted like nothing he’d ever known about before. Peculiarly, as Trenton turned the book around in his hand, he saw no text anywhere on the cover. The front, the spine, and the back were all completely empty, no sign of a title, author, or anything else one might expect from a book. Trenton opened the book, flipping through the pages to see what it might be about, but for some reason, nearly every page was completely blank, the aged parchment showing no sign of ever being defiled with an ink of any variety. However, as he flipped, he managed to find a couple different short passages strewn randomly about the book. It was something, better than being handed a glorified journal, but there seemed to be no symmetry behind it. The passages were at completely random points in the book, one of them even being on the last page. If he was meant to read the book, he didn’t really have much to go off of.

Trenton stood up, looking at the odd man making his way towards the door, “Who are you?”

The man stopped and turned around to look at Trenton, his eyes full of warmth, “An old friend, nothing more,” without another word, the man left the room, leaving Trenton to mull over what it was that he was trying to say.