No single word could describe how large the ‘city’ of Agartha was as it lay sprawled out before us. Even the word ‘city’ was perhaps a little disingenuous, giving the impression of it being a much smaller area than it was. Ventosus was a mere mark on the map in comparison. The rear of the domed area was almost further than I could see, and I figured Agartha was at least the size of a small state.
Gold stairs descended below us, leading past the terraced outer walls and the bridges arching over the waterway, connecting to the glimmering larger, concentric, tiered inner city crowned by a brilliant white artificial sun that hurt to look at.
Agarthian buildings were constructed of giant, perfectly cut, and shining gemstones of every color, each large and rich enough to buy countries over. To our left and right, terraces extended as far as we could see around the cavern's edge, split by three diamond arches that met above the city's center, redistributing the weight above. The streets were muraled in stunning designs, which depicted the ancient history of the world in bright, bold colors. Inlaid in the jeweled buildings were stained glass windows cut in beautiful geometric patterns. Large, unfamiliar, and colorful exotic plants populated the space between buildings.
Over the streets, they strung together hand-crafted and brightly colored blankets, quilts, and throws that filtered the inner sunlight in, allowing it to heat the cold-blooded people.
Agarthians of what seemed like every shade of color and size roamed the streets, from shorter than my waist to ones that towered a few feet above me. Unlike the pants and shirts our guides had worn, used to keep them warm in the outdoors, the bustling residents of Agartha wore robes of varying lengths. The robe colors ranged from neon pinks to pastel purples, dull blacks, and everything in between, bringing out the beautiful colors and patterns of the scaled skin of their wearers. Fauna, floral, and battle-esque patterns were painted over some of the robes, and decorative ropes and ribbons tied the robes underneath the people’s busts or waists. They were tied in every possible manner, according to the wim and style of their wearer.
Some of the robes cut off the Agarthians at the shoulder, and some draped down the Agarthians' arms in sleeves of different sizes. A few of the sleeves were sealed from the top; others were decorative, pinned together with buttons, gems, or other decorative items, with gaps as tiny as my pinky or as large as my forearm between.
Cut and carved pearl, bone, and gemstone necklaces draped around their necks, and trinkets hung from their waist belts. The Agarthian shoes, I noticed, were as varied as our own, with boots, heels, sandals, and tennis-shoe-esque ones visible crossing the steps below. Headdresses or crowns constructed of various materials–fabric, jewels, metal–sat atop or hung from Agarthian heads, replacing the hair they lacked.
As my feet landed on the murals, I looked closer, peering through clear glassy stones to watch the water flow beneath the streets.
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The terraces descended into a moat below, separating this area from the rest of the city. Shining bridges connected them, crossing over and acting as a prism to cast rainbows over the boat-populated waters below.
The mountainous heart of the city sat across the bridges, supported by, it appeared, jeweled pillars or possibly even buildings that scattered in a grid across the massive plates they rested on. Bridges and trains arched over from the residential terraces to the tiers in a bright geometric pattern, making the place appear almost like a kaleidoscope in the view.
A few waterfalls drifted down from the top of the tower, and beautiful rivers streamed down the tiers and over aqueducts, the mist before them projecting rainbows into the open air.
Stairs and trains took people between rows and all the way up to the top, where a massive diamond temple acted as a prism. The artificial sun hovered directly above its highest peak, shining between it and the tip where the diamond supports met. The artificial sun sparkled through the supports, sending colorful streaks down and across them.
Supported by the arches was the ceiling, where large, individual diamonds, rubies, sapphires, and a great number of other precious stones were embedded, reflecting light from the sun like stars. The underground ‘sky’ was painted black, with silver streams connecting the jewels replicating the night sky.
The city and its people were a kaleidoscope of color, bright and dizzying in their variety. From their buildings to their boats down to their streets, it was obvious Agarthians didn’t shy away from color, and Agartha shot past Ventosus as the most beautiful city I’d ever seen.
Sweat dripped down my back. It was also very, very hot. I sucked a deep breath of fresh, clean air through my nose and fanned myself with my shirt as my neck whipped around, my eyes soaking in the stunning beauty.
It was difficult not to run down the stairs and explore the place in child-like glee. Ani brushed against my pant-covered leg before running off to do just that, Ranch following in his wake.
Persephoenix and Ninelithe offered reassurances as our familiars disappeared, stating, “Although no Agarthian needs the support of a familiar, we understand the benefits you gain from such a relationship.” Persephoenix said. The implication that humans were magically weak and needed familiars did not go unnoticed by me, nor, I suspect, Cove.
Ninelithe added, “Agarthians are an advanced race. No harm shall come to them, or you, here. Unlike the cities and the peoples of the world above, we are of one mind. There is no crime, homelessness, or even illness in our great city.” Once again, the emphasis on their superiority was clear.
“We appreciate the goodwill,” Cove said, clipped and short with well-restrained irritation.
Our guides stepped off the stairs, leading us down a residential street. The crowd parted around us, and the Agarthians chatted amicably with each other as they walked. Noticeably, they didn’t so much as turn in our direction, even though their conversations told me eye contact was an important aspect of Agarthian communication.
In front of me, Cove’s ears and the back of his neck turned slightly pink, and my own face felt a little warm. The Agarthians paid more attention, I noted, to the ground beneath their feet than the humans in their midst.