A madman had to design the corridors Iarvahr walked through. Almost a sickening blend of metal and strange, almost mirror-polished rock surrounded him from all sights. As he pressed on deeper into the forgotten caverns, ruins of ancient technology were scattered all around him. Farther he went, the apparent decay of everything around him slowly subsided. There were more and more lights above him, illuminating his steps through dead, silent corridors that spoke of nothing but an infinite silence. Perhaps they were blooming with life once, perhaps they were filled with crowds - now, the only company that he had were the words written in strange letters that attacked his subconsciousness. He somehow knew that with working projectors, he would be able to understand them intuitively but at the moment, the three tendrils scraped the floor, lifeless as the metal they were made of.
Although he was alone, with each step he took he felt more and more watched, as if there was an unseen stalker somewhere around him, tracing his every step, observing every movement he made, watching and waiting. The feeling of imminent threat attacked his mind constantly. Worst of all, he hoped to be actually attacked. He hoped to face some corporeal adversary, be it a monster, a mutant, a human or an animal, but he knew that the thing that watched him had no body by itself. He knew that each step he took was observed by The Creator.
His steps took him to a vast chamber - a crowd of hundreds of people would not be enough to fill it from wall to wall - that was illuminated by a large, shining globe hanging from the ceiling. The ceiling itself looked like the ribcage of an ancient behemoth of legends, with thick metal beams supporting the enormous weight of the world above him. He stopped for a while, awestruck by the enormousness of the chamber itself, reveling in the masterwork that had to be applied to build such a thing. The mastery put into every detail around him felt almost incomprehensible and Iarvahr felt infinitely small compared to the grandeur around him.
His eyes fell to the grand obelisk in the center of the chamber, an oval beam of black obsidian with silver veins webbing its surface. The veins pulsed with light in a rhythmic pattern, giving him an illusion of something living. For a moment, he forgot where he was as he basked in the glory of long lost civilization and without thinking, his steps took him closer to the grand obelisk. He wondered about the legacy of this place, about its purpose, and as his eyes slowly took in the rest of the room, he realized where exactly he was.
He was in the ruins of an ancient, underground city.
Encircling the obelisk were the remnants of buildings, their walls a blend of artistry and technology. Once filled with life and joy, the artisan-made shops and homes now stood silent, breathing the cold air of death at Iarvahr. Some buildings had partially collapsed, their interiors exposed to him, luring him with a song of discovery and wonder.
As he neared the obelisk, a building in near perfect condition came into his sight that was previously hidden behind the walls of slowly crumbling housings. As his eyes focused on the oil-gray walls of the building, he realized that it stood alone just as he was - out of place, out of time. The sense of being watched intensified as he neared the building and he felt waves of cold energy radiating from it like a heartbeat, growing stronger with each step he took, pushing at him, making every movement harder and harder…
Yet he pressed on. The building was alive in a sense, the only thing - apart from the obelisk - that was not dead, silent and crumbling, and both intuition and curiosity pushed him on, and he battled with the invisible force… Until he could go no further.
He stood perhaps ten steps from the entryway, a large winged door made of artfully carved dark wood looking as inviting as the sign of a tavern. It was only now that he saw the light coming from inside through large windows, flickering slowly as if there was either a fireplace inside or plenty of lit candles.
“Hello?” he shouted, his voice echoing through the dead city around him. “Anyone there? Hello!”
He tried to push on again, only to slip and fall against the invisible barrier. As sudden as a summer rainstorm, hunger clenched his insides again with sharp claws and his heartbeat panicked at the sudden feeling.
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If he had something to vomit, he would, but only convulsions and spasms shook his body as his body was too dehydrated to produce even saliva. In a moment, all the energy he had left was gone, and he knelt on the cobbled ground, helplessly staring at the warm light flickering behind closed windows…
“He… Help…” He tried to whisper, yet only wheezing came out of his mouth as his vision started to fade away. He felt like dying and he knew that if his consciousness left him, his life would surely leave his mortal shell with it.
With the last remnants of his strength, he tried to push himself away from the building, only to hit the ground head first. As his eyes started to close and his vision faded entirely, he saw the doorknob turn and a light appeared in the opening doorway.
***
Naira was lying atop the roof of a large warehouse, her dark silhouette blending with the surroundings, making her as invisible as a shade at midnight. She watched the door that led to the strange man’s home through a scope atop the Basilisk, her finger ready at the trigger, itching to release the lethal munition loaded in the chamber. Her breath was calm, her body as steady as a mountain. Unmoving, she waited.
Below her, Harian walked to the observed door, stopping for but a few seconds before he knocked. Naira’s mouth twitched as she saw him through the sights - for some reason, she knew that even if she took the shot at him, it was her that would end up dead and not Harian. What looked like an ordinary soldier - a veteran of a few battles at most - was proving to be much more. She was curious about him, yet his history was as mysterious to her as the workings of that fucking metallic arm in Auria’s back. The soldier kept to himself, yet his acting, his wording and his experience spoke as loud as bells atop churches in the golden city.
They split up and Suranihr and Auria went for the palace - or, more precisely, they went to find out how would they get to the palace, and what would be the best course of action to actually get an audience with someone competent enough to explain the actions of Glaeria against the Triarchy and the Citadel. Meanwhile, Naira and Harian stalked the man from the tavern for the last three days, and where Auria and Suranihr were out of any progress, Naira and Harian formed an actual plan that would yield results immediately.
Harian would knock, and simply talk with the man. No weapons, no pressure against the man, no violence… until necessary. For that reason, Naira and Basilisk covered him, ready to kill whomever if necessary.
The door opened but instead of the man from the tavern, a beautiful woman stood there. She was adorned in a richly embroidered long dress, her mouth colored crimson, her eyelashes longer than eternity, her eyes as seductive as a lover's kiss…
Naira almost pulled the trigger immediately. This was wrong on too many levels. The woman did not fit the place, the district around them was too poor and too filthy for her to not stand out. As quickly as she appeared in the door, she took a few steps back, gesturing to Harian to come inside. After a few unheard words, he followed her and the door behind them closed.
“What the fuck.” Naira spoke - loudly, to her own surprise - and blinked unbelievingly. Without as much as a moment's hesitation, she quickly climbed down from the warehouse and hurried towards the door where Hairan so willingly disappeared.
She ran as fast as she could and in a few minutes, she stood in front of the door, panting heavily, unsure of what to do next. This reeked of something that went horribly wrong. Preparing for the worst, she disassembled Basilisk into a one handed revolving pistol with a series of well-trained movements and neared the door with the pistol raised before her. As she neared the door, it opened slowly and Harian’s face appeared in front of her.
“Relax, Naira, and enter. Do not shoot anybody.”
Without lowering her weapon, she entered the dimly lit room and aimed the gun at a woman that sat on the large bed opposite of the entry door. She quickly scanned the room and found the man from the tavern leaning against the wall to her left, his eyes focused on her with genuine interest. Harian closed the door behind her and put his hand at her shoulder. “Lower the weapon, Naira. Please.”
Slowly, she obeyed. “Would you explain to me what the fuck is going on?” She asked him, the air around her almost freezing from the coldness in her voice.
“Naira, this is a servant of queen Anaid of Antigan, and the man leaning against the wall is High lord Heers of Malorea. Just like you, I am waiting for the explanation.”
The woman bowed her head slightly towards them, and Heers coughed. “Former High lord.” He said bitterly. “And regarding the explanation, I think she is the one to speak. I myself am in dire need of information.”
Six eyes pierced the woman as she stood up from the bed, smoothing out her clothes almost involuntarily. She smiled brightly, her face as natural as if she stood in front of life-long friends. Naira noticed a slight shiver in her eyelids as she spoke.
As she stood in front of them, authority radiated from her like heat from the roaring fireplace. She eyed them one by one quickly and let out words that had shattered their hopes.