Auria tried to hide the discomfort she felt as they passed the scores of war-ready soldiers that camped along the road. She wanted to scream, to vent out years of pushed-back fury and rage, to lash out with the projector and burn them all to the crisp…
But that would put her companions at a risk she wasn’t willing to take. Naira was her family, her sister, her oldest friend, and she grew very fond of both Suranihr and Harian in the past days. The rest of their group, although not as close to her as her friends, were still part of their peace envoy. They were still her kinsmen, the people from her home, and she felt obliged to protect them.
Protect them… Those words resonated in her head as she watched brass-clad killers all around her. Protect them from what?
From sickness and pain was the obvious answer, yet as her eyes darted from one brass helmet to another, she knew that the legion around her presented a much more real and imminent threat than a not-yet existing sickness might.
Shivers ran down her spine as they passed along the regiment with crimson-colored chalice on their banners. Auria realized that she saw the chalice already, along with the scaled golden-colored armor the officers of that regiment wore. She realized that it was one of that regiment that tormented her nightmares - and her past self.
Her eyes were locked in that direction, her whole body stiffened as her horse carried her along their ranks. Few faces rose to meet her, only to pay her as much attention as they would to a pile of stinking garbage. But each sight that fell upon her felt like a stinging pain of her past wounds, and with each pair of eyes she met, a memory surfaced of her being pissed on by a laughing golden dragon.
A wave of throbbing pain overcame her head and her head spun. She grabbed the reins of her horse tightly, trying not to fall down while never taking her sight away from the golden monsters they passed. She felt a pressure building up within her, waiting to be released like steam from a vessel. Each beat of her heart stabbed her mind like a hot knife, sending shivers through her blackened veins that burned with boiling oil flowing within them. The pain, the anguish, the torment, rage and fury, everything was whirling inside the vortex of her mind, the forgotten past battling the clear present, the pain of forgotten years bleeding into her body through her blackened eye.
She saw herself, lying in the dirt, bleeding, reeking of fresh piss.
She saw herself in a damp dungeon, covered head to toe with blood, pus and filth, dismembered and disfigured bodies covering the wet stones around her.
She saw herself lying in the sweat-drenched bed, the reek of fresh semen filling her nostrils, the huge hand of an obese man caressing her tiny body.
And then, in a blink of her black eye, she saw Naira instead of herself. She saw her sister being tortured, beaten, cut open, pissed upon, mutilated and degraded, used and abused.
Another blink, and Naira’s place was taken by Harian.
Blink. Suranihr.
Blink. All the color drained from her world as she looked a young soldier straight into his green - now dark gray - eyes. A soft smile cradled his lips as he watched her - there was no malice, no evil in his face. No bad intent, no violence radiating from his eyes.
Blink.
She saw the veins that connected his eyes with his heart, she saw the nerves that webbed underneath his skin.
Blink.
She saw his lungs as they enlarged and collapsed slightly with each breath he took.
Blink.
She saw his stomach filling itself with acid to digest the freshly eaten rations.
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Blink.
She saw the oily black film that manifested itself in the insides of his lungs. As she willed her thoughts through the projector into that young man’s body, a vile disease was being born out of her own hate and rage, out of her own pain and suffering. With each thought she sent through the projector, the pain in her mind subsided slightly, until it was all gone.
She blinked again, focusing on her own thoughts. The disease in that man would be spread quickly - by cough, by spit, by blood. One by one, each golden fuck in the brass-clad legion would be infected, each of them will try to cough out their lungs until their throats will crack and bleed. Each of them will try to claw out their own insides for all the itch and burning they will feel.
Auria grinned with the smile of a madwoman. But they will not die, oh no. Most of them will live, and most of them will suffer, breathless and in constant agony. Shivers ran across her body as she realized what she had just caused, and a soft voice in her head kept asking her whether that was a right thing to do. She turned her head, finally looking away from the crimson chalice regiment to seek out the forms of her closest companions. To protect them… From pain, from suffering… Her head turned again towards the golden legion. “From evil.” She whispered silently, the corners of her mouth twitching in a grin. Yes, I have done the right thing.
***
Just as expected, the entry to the Celeanae was as guarded as the virginity of a brothel worker and as they passed unobstructed underneath the archway of a large gate, Auria and her companions found themselves in the heart of the poorer district, where the air was thick with the scent of desperation and despair. Ramshackle houses crowded together in narrow alleyways, their windows shuttered against the harsh realities of life outside. The streets were alive with frenzied activity, where every step seemed to carry the weight of struggle and survival. Beggars lined the streets, their outstretched hands a silent plea for mercy in a world that had long forgotten them.
As they made their way deeper into the district, the sounds of the bustling city faded into the background, replaced by the distant cries of children playing in the alleys and the clatter of pots and pans from cramped kitchens. Here, amidst the poverty and squalor, Auria and her companions felt a sense of unease, as if they were trespassing in a world that did not belong to them.
“Where to now?” Auria asked, uncertain of their next actions.
“We need to find ourselves an inn or a tavern. Some place where we will be able to plan ahead, quietly and undisturbed.” Naira said as she looked towards Harian. During their journey, the whole envoy came to see Harian as their sort of leader - the one to find or make the way, the one to decide their next course of action.
He looked at the small crowd of their envoy, thinking. “We will split. Donorran, I give you the responsibility for the civilian group.” Harian said towards a hulking citadel guard that traveled with them, and the man immediately nodded. “No later than in a week, we will meet here and depart this city. If one of the groups won’t be here, the other leaves.” Donorran nodded again and hurried to unload the belongings of Auria and her companions from the carriages.
“And us?” Auria asked calmly. She saw logic in splitting the group - there was no reason for the supporting staff of their envoy to risk anymore than they needed to, and she had a bad feeling that there would be plenty of risk ahead of her.
Harian took a deep breath. “I know a place.”
***
Shadows danced across the worn wooden floors as the soft glow of candlelight illuminated the faces of weary patrons. The air was thick with the smell of ale and smoke, mingling with the murmur of hushed conversations that echoed off the walls like distant whispers.
At a corner table, Heers hid himself behind a mug of ale, watching his surroundings uneasily. He had a strange feeling of being watched himself, yet he was uncertain by what or who. He half-expected a visit from one of Anaids’ messengers, yet no one came to him in what felt like an eternity. He was alone, his days crept one after another, and nothing happened… Yet he felt like something was supposed to happen. Without any concrete reason, Heers felt like the world was going to explode, but he was unsure of what was going to be the spark.
His attention was drawn to the entrance as the heavy wooden door swung open, admitting a group of four figures into the dimly lit room. Two men entered first, and although dressed in dirty rags, they had the looks of seasoned soldiers upon them. Women followed them - one with charcoal-black hair, her face devoid of emotions yet her eyes shone brightly with immense knowledge and wild, quick intelect.
It was the second woman that caught his full attention. Half of her face was hidden beneath the veil of her pale, dirty hair. Heers almost choked on his ale as her face turned towards him for an instant and he saw a glint of her hidden eye, as black as the darkest night, surrounded by a web of black veins. They moved with purpose, their steps measured and deliberate as they scanned the crowded space with wary eyes.
Heers observed them silently. There was something about them, a quiet intensity that set them apart from the other patrons in the tavern. Their body language spoke louder than any words could – they were on edge, ready to lash out and strike with but a hint of threat.
He could not take his eyes away from the white-haired woman. Shivers ran down his spine and sweat drenched his clothes. Heers felt like he was watching not a woman, but a flame - a spark - that would ignite his world, and the world of everyone else, and turn it upside down.