Grand Ballroom, the Great Basilika, Magnagrad
From within the ballroom, the cacophony of voices, clinking glass and music had abruptly stopped, the low roar of the wind's murmuring the only sound the two inquisitors could hear. The cause of the silence inside the ballroom was immediately clear to the two inquisitors standing on the balcony. Neither Mother Indira nor Mother Viveca had been blessed with the gift of ether sensing, but in that moment, they had both felt it. It was if they had been dropped into a frigid ocean and were now lashing at the waves, their chests heavy with the weight of the water, their lungs struggling to draw in air. Both of them turned their heads in unison to face the glass doors of the ballroom.
"Bishop Aleksandre! Y-Your Eminence! We were not expecting you!"
The short, wrinkly old cardinal who had been holding court for the evening was bowing before a tall blonde man in armored black and crimson inquisitor's robes. Bishop Aleksandre, Lord Varya's Champion, the Lion of Lanostre, the Great Vanquisher of the South, and whatever other lofty titles the empire had gilded him with, stood silent in the middle of the ballroom, a feint smile touching his lips as he appreciated the stolen walls of the grand ballroom around him. His eyes were dagger-sharp and his pupils were great pools of a blue so dark they almost appeared black. Those fathomless oceans, now trained on the pale, frozen face of the cardinal, seemed to encompass the entirety of his eyes, there was nary a trace of white in them.
Bishop Aleksandre gazed downward to observe the old cardinal with a placid, almost curious expression, his eyes narrowing, as if the peerless sorcerer was trying to remember who he was. After a moment, his emotionless face broke into a wide pearly white smile and the bishop bowed his head in deep reverence.
"Cardinal Valentin. It is good to see you in good health. My sincerest apologies for interrupting the celebrations--"
Indira immediately turned to face Vivica. The summoner's face was a mask of determined calm, but Vivica could see the fear in her mentor's eyes.
"He cannot meet you, do you understand? He will know you are involved, just by staring into your eyes. I will distract him, and you will leave."
Indira placed her hands on Viveca's shoulders and squeezed them. She then drew her pupil into a close embrace, and brought her lips to Viveca's ear. "Listen to me... The azure circle. No matter the Aspect, no matter the inquisitor, we who carry the embers within our blood glimpse it in our visions at Culmination. Some ignore it, some are cowed by it, others are drawn to it. You... You must use it."
Indira raised her right hand to Viveca's face, the scar from her earlier amputation still visible around her wrist, and formed a tight fist.
"It is a weapon," Indira whispered, her words near silent but determined, "and it lives and breathes within each of us." The summoner lowered her fist and pressed it gently to Viveca's chest, above her heart.
"The armada is to depart soon and Aleksandre suspects something is amiss. He is watching Creid, Antonin and myself. There is nothing you can do for us now. But... I pray you might save yourselves from whatever oblivion awaits us out beyond the Narrow Gates. I have sent coded transmissions to Oren and Mother Tatiana of Warband Phoenix, informing them of what I told you. Seek them out on the Karamzina."
Mother Indira broke eye contact and turned to face the ballroom, where she was met with Bishop Aleksandre's strange opaque eyes staring directly at her. She flashed that perfect smile of hers, the same one she made use of when being interviewed by the empire's top publications and science journals, and the great bishop smiled and nodded in return. She bowed her head at the bishop, and casually turned to face Viveca one last time.
"In the deepest levels of the archives beneath the Seminary, there is a lone text. If my information is correct, it is one of the few historical texts that survived Iddin-Mar's destruction. You must find it, Viveca, and pray that it holds the knowledge we need."
Indira took Viveca's hands in her own, stealthily placing the key to the catacombs within the girl's pale palms.
"Veshi'maru, vashi'mara," Indira whispered to her with a smile. The words were gossamer, their every forbidden syllable as quiet as a grave.
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