The Ruins of Iddin-Mar, Old Omestris
Ziotea followed after Father Oren, still watching the strangers warily. She listened to Essa with half an ear, though she was unable to comblepely conceal the shudder that ran though her at the thought of the woman bleeding herself to power the underground complex. She smiled to herself when Rose labelled them as enemies. The girl was correct, and from the Inquisitor's perspective she seemed to have more sense than her older companion. But perhaps age made one less concerned over simple things like mortality.
They'd managed to turn this part of the rooms into a comfortable, homey sort of place. It was impressive, all things considered. But Ziotea firmly set her artistic eye aside. It wasn't the time for admiring the architecture or furnishings. The other children emerging from the shadows were not what she'd expected, but their presence was less surprising. Both were scared. Good. Fear would keep them sharp.
Ziotea didn't sit when invited, instead standing just behind Father Oren's chair. The mention of the Scarlet House elicited no recognition, and she had no idea why the people frequenting the place were important, save to indicate the relative merit of the place -- such as it was. But the names of the children took her aback.
Royalty.
Well. Royalty after a fashion. The houses were essentially dead. There was no value to carrying a name like that. If anything, they were as much a curse as Omestrian blood. The news that members of the defunct houses were kept as pleasure slaves and to indulge Varyan whims was, though distasteful, not surprising. She'd long ago stopped believing there was anything the followers of the Ravenous Lord would not take from those they saw as lesser. This was simply another stanza in the same bloody epic. She didn't flinch away from the fury in the child princess's eyes, matching it with her own anger and will. It was impressive, leading two other children across the bitter tundra on a journey that must have taken them half a year or more. Planning and executing such a scheme demonstrated considerable intelligence as well. It couldn't have been too many years prior, or they wouldn't have made it -- and with years of planning, the girl must have started very young. Impressive indeed.
The display of power might have frightened some, but for Ziotea, it only made her angry. It was split-second before her instincts caught up with the rest of her, and despite the woman's defensive words the Inquisitor had initially reacted to the demonstration by falling back into a battle stance. The old woman was strong, and if she had been an Inquisitor -- had trained as one, and graduated the Seminary to serve as a warpriest, then she was most likely more than Ziotea could handle alone. Perhaps more than she could handle even with Oren's help -- they were still young, and the apostate had the advantage of age and experience.
But she was only trying to protect her royal strays. Interesting. Definitely something High Command would want to hear about -- though the fate that awaited the children, should they be captured... "No threat save to those who threaten your charges? Fair enough, I suppose. Besides, I don't like my chances against a former High Inquisitor, with or without your catalyst." Of course, she'd picked fights she had no chance of winnning before, but that was beside the point. "Who knows? Maybe you're even strong enough to actually protect them for a while." She said the last line more to herself than to anyone in the room. Oh, Essa wouldn't be able to protect the children forever -- if nothing else, she'd die eventually. But a High Inquisitor...that might just be enough to give them a sliver of a chance. And maybe she could train the little rose to use its thorns. The real question was whether she reported them, as she knew she should, or let them continue their little game of pretend without interfering.
The request for her name brought her focus back to the conversation, and a frown back to her face. "If warsiblings were truly of a mind, then yours would be here beside you," she snapped, before she could even consider whether she might be better off holding her tongue. The words hung between the two women like jagged shards of glass, but Ziotea didn't take them back. She wasn't about to be frightened into cowardice, and she spoke the truth -- even among the members of Warband Phoenix, there were differing opinions. She stood by Father Oren all the same, did she not? That should be enough.
But a name, perhaps that she could do. "Elpis," she said abruptly, using her middle name instead of either of the ones she was called more commonly. She returned Father Oren's glance with a glare. "What? Just because I don't generally use it doesn't make it any less my name." It could well be he'd never even heard it. Certainly she didn't offer it often. But she doubted it mattered much which part of her name she shared, unless for some reason Essa wished to track down more information about her after they'd left. She was still unwilling to offer her trust. Not attacking someone didn't make a person a friend, after all. And given that hers was clearly a Lanostran name, she doubted the old woman would have anything interesting to say about any of it. If she was being completely honest, Ziotea had no wish to find out how rare or common or even well-known her last name might have been, back before Essa had turned traitor. Let her mother's relatives remain a mystery. The woman had given her life and a name, and then given her up. Like this place, Ziotea lacked a meaningful connection to her. And there was no way she was giving her first name. It was far too personal a detail to share under the circumstances. Her expression wasn't quite a dare to quibble over her interpretation of the question, but it came close. Anyone that expected courtesy from Ziotea was bound to be disappointed.
***
At first, Oren was without words. The notion that the royal bloodlines hadn't been exterminated just like all the Clergy of the other Remnants... it was beyond imagination. But, as Rose straightened her back, rolled back her shoulders, and looked at them with hard eyes... yes. Yes, he could see that she was a princess. Marred by the cruelty of this world, but royal nonetheless.
The next revelation - Essa's identity - was a little more understandable. She carried a catalyst, after all. And as her power trembled through the ancient halls, his nerves were instantly set on edge, and he fought the instinct to draw steel. That was not his aim here. Not yet, anyway.
He glanced at Ziotea when she let slip her midname. But, he didn't question it. Clearly, the woman was holding some sway here. And the three children... his eyes lingered on them. They were thin but strong. Their ordeals had carried them through much. Even though they had naught to hope for, they seemed determined, of a kind.
Oren bowed his head to the boy, in brief thanks for the tea. Then he looked back to the elder. "...Mother Lyessa al-Nors," he said, sounding out the name. "I agree with Elpis on this. A Warband with the same mind would stay as one, even when their thoughts differ. And from time to time, even Inquisitors who are not from the same circle stand together." His hand flicked towards Ziotea.
With his other hand, he picked up one of the teacups, and turned it, examining the porcelain surface. "I think we three all know the damage that you could do. Inquisitors do not break away from the Seminary so easily, and those that do often do not live for long. And here, today, you have my word that my hand will bring no harm to Rose of Id-Maryan, Vahn of Sareffi-Astra, or Fionna of Saphar."
He set the cup back down, undrunk, and met Essa's eyes. "After today, and by anyone else, I cannot say. As for my civility... the ice that is not stepped on will not break. You are no threat to me, so long as I do not 'step' upon you. And as of now, you are no threat to Varya, either."
He looked at the three children and spoke in a low voice. "It would be in your best interests to stay as such." Letting that hang in the air for them, he leaned back in his chair, and looked once more to the elder woman. A thought had occurred.
"Since I sense we may soon outstay our welcome, I must ask... Andrei Seminov? Do you know him? He is young, a fool, and stationed at the outpost."
Essa raised a curious eyebrow at Oren's query.
"The outpost at the Marian Gate has been abandoned for weeks. There is no one currently stationed there. Certainly no one named Seminov."
The three children behind Rose glanced at each other, worry beginning to cloud over their faces once more. Rose turned around and began to quietly console them.
"Tell me, who... exactly did you meet there?" Essa asked Oren, her voice beginning to harden.
Oren tilted his head. "One might say the same of the ruins. It is not often you find people in these places, yet here you all are."
He paused again. "I will trade you your answer, if you give me yours. Why does it concern you so?"
***
Ziotea subsided again into bristling silence, though she was privately grateful when Father Oren backed her up. And then Essa dropped her little bombshell, and the young Inquisitor tightened her grip on her spear.
"The answer -- at least some of it -- is obvious. There are people hunting both her and the children. Even if they're not hunting them, having people here is a risk. She doesn't have enough information to assess the threat." Ziotea's eyes narrowed, and her thoughts buzzed. It was proceedure to send someone with Omestrians visiting Omestris, that she knew. So the private himself wasn't exactly out of place -- and she had trouble seeing his wide-eyed idealism as anything but the truth. But he knew the other two, and they him. If there was not supposed to be a garrison here, then what was going on?
"I don't think it matters to us if she has additional concerns. Whatever the people upstairs are up to, I don't believe they're a threat at this moment -- assuming her information is up to date in the first place. The worst that might be done to us is to sabotage the elevator, and I can handle that easily enough," she said to Father Oren. "We'll need to discuss how to handle it, though. Later." Her bright eyes flicked briefly between the different members of their audience before returning to Essa.
"The private was assigned to accompany us. ...He will get himself killed, and endanger you and your charges, if he continues as he has." Ziotea's eyes narrowed above a thin smile. This was little enough to share, particularly if it helped her find out what was going on with the outpost. "We encountered only two of his comrades, both seargents, neither particularly disciplined. Mikhail and Veena." Even as she spoke, she let her ether whisper out of her, her eyes unfocusing slightly. "If they're strong enough to be a threat, I'll sense them before they get close." Once more she looked at the old woman. "You were pleased that we had questions. That means you have some interest in answering them -- though I'm sure there's some you won't." Such as who the Hand are -- if you've any sense.
She considered. She had so many questions, but at the same time...how many of them really mattered? Whatever happened there nearly two hundred years before, did it really matter? Yet she wanted to understand, and of all the questions that came to mind, that one was the most pressing. "What's so important about this place?" she said at last. "Not them." She nodded at Rose and the other two children. "They're incidental. And not that line about old habits. The addlepated buffoon said Omestrians dream of coming here. There's no frost on the ground; there are plants and flowers all over. What is this place? What happened here?" Ziotea had not changed her stance, and her tone remained sharp, but there was something about how she asked the question that betrayed her. She was far more than just a seething ball of anger, and despite knowing she had to put her duty first, she did want answers.
***
Essa closed her eyes as Ziotea spoke. The old woman listened intently, occasionally nodding in agreement to the ember-haired inquisitor's assesments, other times parsing her lips in uncertainty, as if to say "Hm. Not sure about that one!". This one was like an engine, Essa thought, churning constantly, unable to cease its functions. Though the girl was talented at hiding her ether, the high inquisitor could sense it galing within her, clear and bright as summer. It was a beautiful sort of ether, Essa mused. Dangerous, graceful in its chaos. It was a tempest. The warnings winds of the coming storm.
When Ziotea was finished, Essa opened her eyes and regarded the girl with amusement.
"I must say-- Good work! They've trained you well. All of that makes a certain amount of sense, except for one thing. I am a High Inquisitor, one of the few throughout history who has earned the blooded circle. Do you really believe that the Church, in all its infinite power, doesn't know where I am at this very moment?"
Essa turned to Oren and shook her head in mock disappointment.
"I called myself an apostate earlier, but in truth, I think of myself as "unofficially" retired," Essa said, chuckling to herself. "In other words, the Church knows full-well where I am and who I am. They are keenly aware of the mother hen who roosts here. 'Iddin-Mar belongs to Lyessa al-Nors the Oathbreaker, as it has for the past hundred years'. These words are scripture and covenant. Thus, it is not to their benefit to send starved hounds to bear their fangs at my little coop. Unless they require more corpses for the foundations of their horrible city, in which case I am more than happy to help," Essa said, taking a sip of her tea.
"Now, before I answer your questions, I would like to revisit the one at hand-- Just who are these "soldiers" you met? This Private Seminov. He is not an attache soldier. I know the identity of every soul who steps foot on this land and... I don't know of this boy. I believe he is a liar, and a damned good one too, if he managed to fool the both of you. And his two comrades? They are not soldiers either. As I said, this is my home and the Church understands that fact."
The old woman leaned forward, making the ancient couch creak beneath her weight. "I was once at the head of entire legions, and while most wouldn't remember me, some do. I still have eyes and ears in the Basilika, and I know what happens on every blackened mile and inch of this place, especially that garrison. Nearly every able-bodied soldier in the empire has been given orders to be packed on a steam ark to fight in El. None have been spared for the Marian Gate."
"So, who are they then?" Rose asked, more curious than anything, "They're dangerous, right?"
Essa took a moment to consider the girl's query before focusing her eyes intently on Oren and then to Ziotea.
"Tell me. Have either of you had any interesting dreams lately?"
***
Oren felt the corner of his mouth twisting. The Red Seminary was afraid of her? He did find that hard to believe, but it was also... amusing. Or, it was possible, that like him, they considered the unprovoked wolf to be a harmless one. So long as the three royals made no movement to stir rebellion, the old woman and her three wards were not going to do anything but survive.
When the notion was posed that Seminov, Mikhail and Veena were not as they seemed... it changed the smirk into a frown. That... was irritating. The idea that he had been hoodwinked was unpleasant. But he couldn't deny that it had an air of sense to it... the outpost was a mess when they arrived. The two sergeants, too informal and unprepared. They would have been informed, surely. But... it didn't seem possible. The private had been sent to escort them... hadn't he? Yet he fumbled when Oren told them they needed none... and it was only the boy's words they had to go by... so was he telling the truth at all?
The two thoughts churned within him... but he set them aside when Essa's eyes fell on him.
"Tell me. Have either of you had interesting dreams lately?"
He inhaled, as the image of a shining blue circle imprinted itself in his vision. ...Yes. Very, very interesting.
"You speak of Culmination, don't you?" he asked. "If so, you must know that it is nigh on undeniable."
"...As for our issue with the three at the outpost... Andrei Seminov believes himself to be an advocate of freedom, of sorts. He wears my mentor's emblem around his neck, Mother Indira Al Sayed. You may know her as 'The First Summoner', among other titles, if you have heard many things at all. His companions most did not express similar sentiments. None are what I would call able-bodied or quality soldiers. Perhaps Mikhail and Veena are pirates or wanderers; perhaps they were sent ahead due to our visit; perhaps your information was wrong. But I shall leave the ordeal of discerning their reasons for being there down to you."
***
Essa listened to the young inquisitor as he spoke. When he was finished the elder rose from her seat and made her way to where he stood. Years beyond number had passed before her eyes, but Mother Lyessa possessed the look of a woman still in her 80s. Her skin was the color of burnished copper and her bone-white hair had been done up in slightly clumsy-looking braids, as if the locks of hair had been knotted into place by a child's fingers.
"I asked about your dreams earlier because, well... this is going to sound crazy to you but, I wonder if this is all not the doing of your Aspect."
The inquisitors stared at her. Silence filled the room.
"The two of you have seen it-- The azure circle. Every Omestrian inquisitor that came before you has encountered the circle in their vision, and every one that will come after will feel its touch as well," Essa spoke in a hushed, almost reverent voice.
She turned to face Ziotea, regarding her with a curious gaze.
"Ours showed me death. Endless death. The azure circle at the center of it all. Had a sick sense of humor, the bastard," she said with a knowing grin, "But that's besides the point."
"Aspects are strange and powerful beings. They are as unknowable as the Pantheon themselves," she continued, "It is my theory that some Aspects don't actually carry out Lord Varya's will, but instead act as tiny remnants of those the Starving One has consumed. Thus, maybe it is not the Ravenous Lord speaking to inquisitors through his Aspects, but T'sarae, Lanostre, Muraad and Omestris themselves," Essa spoke, her eyes focused on their faces as she drank from her teacup.
"I... I don't completely understand what you are speaking of Lady Essa, but... these soldiers, you are saying they aren't... real?" Rose asked suddenly. Her arms were still draped closely around Fie and Vahn's shoulders.
"Real... That depends, my dear. They could be divine constructs engineered to act as hapless soldiers by our guests' Patron Aspect, or they are three regular people who've been... "borrowed" by said Aspect in order to play a part in... whatever this is. One thing is for certain however, no one has been ordered to man that garrison, and I would wager that there hasn't been a replacement for the former Omestris attache officer either. She, along with the rest of the Omestrian garrison, were sent to fight in El."
Essa took a sip of her tea, which was now cold to her lips.
"I believe that, perhaps, your Aspect has took it upon themselves to send you here to me and the three soldiers have been given the role of 'shepherds', to make certain you made your way down into the ruins. Why go through all that trouble? I think I know the reason why--"
Rose cried out then.
"No, Lady Essa! You can't tell them--"
"It's fine, my dear. Knowledge shouldn't be kept hidden," the elder answered, cutting the Omestrian girl off before turning to face Oren and Ziotea.
"I have known a great many secrets for a great many years... Secrets that the Church hides from its flock, secrets that could change the empire itself... but even after a century of visions, not one Omestrian has visited my doorstep. Until you two came along. Perhaps your Aspect wishes for you to know more than you currently do."
***
The question of dreams made Ziotea huff a small breath through her nose. Father Oren's suggestion that Essa spoke of Culmination elicited an outright sneer. That was a deeply personal thing, or it was supposed to be. Damned if she'd share the details with just anyone, particularly a stranger.
But the woman continued with words that bordered on madness -- and with uncanny accuracy. Were it not for that one detail, she would dismiss all of this as beyond sanity. But the blue circle. She had seen it. Had Father Oren? Had the other Omestrians? But why? Her disdainful expression faltered into confusion as she looked over at her companion, before it settled back into mere wariness.
"You're right. You sound mad," Ziotea said at last. "Remnants of Remnants acting as Aspects? If that was the case, would the Church stand for it? Would Lord Varya Himself? If every Inquisitor with Omestrian blood sees this circle" -- she didn't quite manage to remember to exclude herself from that number, though she'd meant to avoid acknowledging that she had seen it -- "then it must be not some, but all. That, or it's unrelated." The Inquisitor paused, and again she seemed less than certain. "I'll admit I do not understand them. The older Inquisitors never really said much about what, if anything, their bands' Aspects did, or how they involved themselves in the lives of those Inquisitors." She'd asked Father Antonin, but he'd never been very forthcoming, and she'd been reluctant to press him on it. Father Creid had avoided the question entirely.
"I have difficulty believing that we're the first to come here. And even if we are...I've no idea why this blue circle should be a summons of any kind. Father Kanus invited me to come with him." She looked over at him again, bright eyes shadowed by her frown. "I suppose once you decided then these...constructs, or whatever, might have gently influenced things. Here instead of a different site. Opening the elevator -- it'd explain the poor repair, if it wasn't often used. Still."
Ziotea pursed her lips as a particularly distasteful thought occurred to her. She tugged his sleeve gently so he would move his head close enough for her to speak without being easily overheard. "If your Aspect, or mine, is not in fact following the will of the Ravenous Lord...are we sure we wish to listen?" Her bright eyes were shadowed, uncertainty warring with a longing as strong as Varya's own hunger. She wanted to know what it was the woman had to say. What the secrets were. Maybe her answers were in there somewhere. But she knew better than to charge ahead blind. And maybe it wasn't some piece of another Remnant but Varya himself, and if it was, then she resented his meddling. She could have waited for Rodion to finish in the city and they could have gone somewhere together. She could have gone to Lanostre -- the land of her true heritage, whatever her appearance might say to the contrary. Was this normal for Inquisitors, to be toyed with by their guiding Aspects? It was a baseless assumption, but the young woman found her opinion of Phoenix's Aspect plummeting. She was no longer a child, and she didn't like being made to feel small. She'd relaxed her grip on her spear, and now it tightened again, even as she waited for Father Oren's reply.
***
"The two of you have seen it-- The azure circle."
Oren felt a chill run down his spine at those words. Almost subconsciously, he looked down at his right hand. He could practically feel the circle there, despite knowing it had only existed in the vision. For a moment longer, he stared, before closing his hand into a fist, and turned his attention back to the elder woman.
Her thesis on Aspects was interesting, to say the least. And she certainly sounded out of her mind, to all of them here. And if she was in her right mind with this, what did it mean for the structure of the seminary? The whole structure would be rife with cracks, from the foundation to the walls that hold up the roof. It could fall apart. The idea that Varya would allow even the slightest chance was... unimaginable.
And then her idea of the three up in the outpost being... controlled, in a way. Oren only knew of one person capable of manipulating others in such a fashion, and even then, Hassan only had a measure of influence, and it wore away after a time. If they were just puppets moved by the hands of the puppeteer... well, that brought only more questions. It certainly didn't sound incorrect, but... it still sounded different than it should.
This was swiftly followed by the altercation between Rose and Essa. His face went a little paler than it usually was. Knowledge of what kind? Secrets of what degree? Everything she had said so far made sense to him, in one way or another... but this was different. That was provoking the wolf. Walking out onto the thin ice... to learn what the Church chose to hide... but would the outcome be so bad?
He shoved the thought aside. Not now. Stay calm, and keep the mask intact. He knew how to conceal his thoughts, right? Do it now.
After that, Ziotea presented her thoughts. He frowned at some parts, nodded at others, and otherwise, just listened. When she murmured in his ear, Oren cast a cautionary glance at their host, as while she appeared out of earshot, it was just as possible that she could hear their whispers.
"I... Aspects One-Seventeen and One-Nineteen are beyond our grasp of understanding. Even if both our warbands pooled their knowledge and their visions, it would hardly fill a thimble of what the Aspects are. As for their intentions... Mother Elpis, we both know that humans as a whole have a hunger for knowledge, but in this case... the coin could fall either way. We could decline this woman's offer, and let the fact that knowledge has passed us by torment us for whatever short years I feel we have left. Or we accept, and either are fed poisonous deceit, a truth we were never meant to know, or something that endangers us and those we care for, if we let slip that we ever learned of it. And in this instance... I... I don't know."
His voice faltered, and then trailed away as uncertainty set in. This was a precipice of chance, and Oren had no idea on which side he would fall.
***
Maybe it was foolish, the desire for some sort of answer. Maybe it was her temper getting the best of her. Maybe Rodion was not always a good influence, and his thirst for knowledge had affected her. Maybe she just wanted to regain some measure of control.
Whatever the reason, Father Oren's uncertainty served to solidify Ziotea's resolve. It would hardly be the first time she'd tread the borders of what was permitted, if it came down to it, and her opinion of the Church was not a particularly flattering one. And the thought of the knowledge being dangerous to her and the people she cared about...
"Rodion and the rest are more than capable of looking after themselves. As are we. But forewarned is forearmed."
Mind made up, she squared her shoulders and turned again to the old woman. Her chin lifted in subconscious defiance. "I'm listening. What is it you think we should know?"
***
"Vahn, Fie. The fish in the Merakis Exhibit need tending to. Would you be dears and feed them for me?"
Fie turned to leave without a word, but Vahn remained.
"Um, do you mean the little orange ones--"
Fie frowned, turned around and grabbed the young T'saraen heir by the collar, dragging him back with her into a hallway leading deeper into the aquarium. Essa watched the two children leave with a peaceful smile. When Vahn and Fie were gone, Essa reached into her robes and pulled out a small container. It was an old thing, scarred and dented, but the craftsmanship was something to behold. It seemed to be made of a material that neither Oren or Ziotea had ever seen before. Black and glass-like, similar to the walls and floors of the grand ballroom at the Grand Basilika where the Rising took place, but shimmering with a crimson hue. When it caught the light from the etherlamps hanging on the walls, the two inquisitors glimpsed an emblem of what appeared to be a human skull with a crown of interlocking hands resting on its brow etched on the container. Immediately, and to their shock, they recognized it as the emblem of the White Necromancer, Father Antonin.
Essa didn't seem to notice the recognition in their eyes, as she had opened the strange container and was now removing a pinch of what looked like finely cut red and purple herbs. The two inquisitors remembered that they were of the same color and weeds growing in parts of the ruined city. The old woman carefully measured the amount of gantleaf she removed from the container before adding it to her cup of tea. She held it aloft in front of her.
"To the brave and foolish ones who made it their life's goal to help those children attain their freedom," she declared, before downing the cup of gantleaf-infused tea in one gulp. Essa placed the open container in front of the two inquisitors before allowing a moment for the drug to course through her veins.
She remained sitting absolutely still with eyes closed, Rose looking at her with a disquieting expression. Clearly this was something the young girl had never had to deal with before. It was a few moments before Essa finally leaned back on the couch, exhaling with pleasure. Her eyes still closed, she breathed slowly, her chest rising and falling. The old woman remained like that for minutes as silence filled the room, when suddenly her hands became tout and rigid and she began to dig her nails into the fabric of the couch.
Her expression, one of peace and bliss, became strained. She began to sweat. Her eyelids squeezed themselves closed in painful remembrance. Her breath came in quick rasps.
"His name was Elder Reulodia. He grew mad when he glimpsed what our eyes must not see. But in return for his sanity he witnessed a dread memory. Through ages it has been passed down like a flickering ember, from the hidden hands of Our Lady's Blood, to the cupped palms of the enslaved, and now I bequeath it to you, Father Kanus and Mother Elpis."
Essa's eyes opened. The sunset pupils were gone, instead replaced by pale discs of moonlight. She was blind to the two inquisitors as she stared toward some infinity beyond them. Her fingernails scratched into the cushion beneath her, cutting into the fabric. The water in the tanks around them began to churn violently.
"In this land the ancients once called North Ura, there were Eleven, all desperately alone, all wanting to become whole once more. Among the Eleven, there were the two called the Twins-- Hand and Shield, Brother And Sister. Wild Gods scalded by the Burning One's hatred and His Sword of Fire, the Twins cared not for culmination, instead they longed to annihilate all that breathed in this world. Spine, Eyes, Right Arm, Right Leg, Left Leg, Soul-- they grew fat on the blood of these gods, until only three were left. Heart, Mind, and Stomach."
At that moment, water exploded from the tanks, arcing upwards toward the high ceiling of the aquarium and forming a watery canvass which hung above their heads. Fish still swam within the suspended water, but deep within its depths a feint light began to spread. Essa trembled, her hands now shivering as if assailed by some unknown cold, her milky pale eyes still staring towards somewhere far away.
As the two inquisitors looked upon the wall of water hanging above them, the light encompassing it began to shape itself into discernible images. First, the light bloomed until all the water bled white, and when it began to ripple, displacing small bits of light and making them dance across the surface, Oren and Ziotea realized what they were looking at. It was the entirety of the continent. They could make out the southern edge of T'sarae's coastline, as well as the the barren wasteland of Muraad to the north. Indistinctly, they looked to the west, and saw that Magnagrad was not there. What did they see, were small villages dotting the continent. To the east however, they glimpsed the beginnings of a city. Iddin-Mar. This world was younger than their own.
Suddenly, the view shifted to a barren icefield. Three dark shapes appeared on the snow. At first, they were indistinct shadows, but as they slowly shifted into focus Oren and Ziotea immediately recognized who they were.
One was as large as two men and broad as a steam tank. He was clothed in beautiful silks of vivid scarlet, while lustrous black hair fell like curtains of darkness across his colossal shoulders. A prominent black beard covered his jaw and chest. There was no mistaking the visage of their lord. Only in this vision, Lord Varya, even with with his size, appeared small amidst the massive field of snow around him.
Beside him a young boy stood defiantly against the cold with bare skinny arms crossed across his chest. His clothes were in tatters, slick with what looked like mud and foliage. His eyes, so often depicted in Varyan texts as smears of faded purple, were shining like jewels. Even as he stood, tiny compared to the two figures opposite him, Muraad the Heart Lord didn't appear cowed in any way.
The third figure appeared unlike anything the two inquisitors had ever seen, but they knew his name. Lord T'sarae had never been physically depicted in his nation's texts, nor in Varyan propaganda. The strange inhuman apparition that stood opposite Lord Varya and Lord Muraad manifested in their minds as an ever-shifting amalgam of different concepts, one moment a cloud of language, then manifesting as music in their ears, another moment appearing as a shadow blacker and more profound than any abyss. T'sarae was unknowable.
The three stood, waiting. Until finally, the blizzard stopped. Two great shadows spread along the snow, darkening the three deities as they turned toward the two figures casting them. A young man and woman approached. With every step, the snow melted and was replaced with crimson brush, flowers and thorns. As they made their way to the three, Ziotea and Oren could glimpse the twins more clearly but alas, the two inquisitors found that they couldn't recognize them.
The twins appeared as reflections of each other, beautiful and elegant, like angels made flesh. Their faces were the same, their long crimson flowing hair stirring lazily despite there being no wind. The only difference in their appearance was their clothing. The woman wore a red robe, beautiful if not understated, while her brother wore the same robe, but colored azure.
The woman's pale gold eyes looked upon the three with bored disdain. Her brother's eyes were different. They were a burning, elemental gold. The shade of forbidden fire. There was outright hatred scorching within those eyes.
The twins said nothing, and in answer, the gods Varya, Muraad and T'sarae bowed down to them.
"It was Lord T'sarae who had warned our Lady Omestris," Essa's spoke, her voice seemingly coming from far away, "... of her brother Lord Asherahn's coming betrayal."
It was then, at that moment, that Omestris turned to her twin and plunged a blade into his chest. Her brother cried out in a mixture of anguish and shock as plumes of fire erupted from the wound and quickly extinguished. With the blade still buried within him, the god Asherahn grabbed at the throat of his twin and began to choke her.
"He was the First Aegis. The Protector who shielded the Ice Titan from the Burning One's attacks for nigh an eternity. He absorbed every ounce of the Fire Titan's rage, every storm of hellfire, every single attack, until he couldn't any more. He shared the brunt of what he endured with the hand that held him, but Asherahn the Shield remained with most of it. The Fire Titan's malice became his own."
The three remnants, in unison, rose from their positions in the ground, summoned their weapons, and immediately fell upon Asherahn, slashing at and beating him until his grip around his sister's throat loosened.
"For the better part of a century, Lord Asherahn held them off, but even a God tires. Even as his strength drained from him, Asherahn's hatred and anger never subsided."
Within the vision, the great sphere of Syddon-Mar, came into focus.
"With the help of Varya, T'sarae and Muraad, Lady Omestris imprisoned her brother within Syddon, the fallen star. Once a remnant of some unknown god, it is a place where the living cannot exist. As long as he is trapped there, the Shield is dead to this world, but we as a people were born from Omestris and Asherahn both, and thus part of him lives on in all of us. Just as we of the Hand belong to Lady Omestris, we belong to Lord Asherahn as well."
With that, Essa's shoulders slumped, and the floating pool of water above them dissipated. Jets of water gracefully returned to their tanks, and Essa's clouded eyes returned to normal. She shivered, letting whatever magical energy she had used to control the water to fade from her.
Rose, who had remained silent the entire length of Essa's story, rose from her seat and went to one of the back rooms of the aquarium. Soon after, she returned with a blanket and draped it over Essa, who sat trembling on the couch, her eyes half-open.
"Asherahn is cruel and malignant beyond even Lord Varya at his cruelest. He who desires nothing more than the end of everything. The ancient Omestrians fought a great civil war over his worship, with some of our people hailing themselves "Ashes" and striving to return him to power. Many Omestrians died needlessly during this conflict. It is a dark time in our history, and thus our ancestors chose to expunge the Shield and his worshipers from their records. They even changed the meaning of his name, but alas', Asherahn doesn't want to be forgotten," the old woman spoke in a thin, depleted voice.
Essa gazed into Ziotea's eyes, before turning to face Oren. The elder seemed to be growing weaker with every passing moment. She struggled to raise her hand in front of them, and with her trembling finger, attempted to draw an imaginary circle in the air.
"Somehow, the Aspects are being influenced by him, and in turn, Asherahn is influencing Omestrian inquisitors. I don't know what the meaning of it is, but it can't be good. There were legends of certain so-called Ashes being able to summon his power through dark rituals, and those same people being responsible for many deaths during the civil war. If unknowing Omestrian inqusitors were ever swayed by his power... Seduced by him appearing in their dreams...."
Essa began to cough violently. Rose rushed to the elder's side.
"Lady Essa! Are you alright?"
Essa closed looked upon her young charge and smiled.
"Forgive me. Takes a lot out of you, the 'remembering'... I wanted to show you more but... They're catching up to me... The years..."
Essa closed her eyes. Rose turned to the two inquisitors.
"Lady Essa needs rest. You are both free to stay here for the night. I think she has more to tell you, but it'll have to wait. If you do wish to remain here, speak to Vahn. He'll show you to your room."
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