Cold beads trickled down her forehead as Aurelithae stood before the lustrous white marble fall. Her body, her soul still afire after it flew across the Folds of Space and Time. Another sensation she grew not accustomed to yet, though this one she did not mind at all. The plummeting weightlessness, the mild dread born from the absence of marching time fed the flames of her returning consciousness, shard of a soul. Though it lessened by the shadowing congregation of pleasant sensations. Such as the tender fondling of a silky river, carrying her upon its back, a sweet fragrance snaking into her nostrils, delivered by the chilly wind of the night lurking beyond her window.
This strange brew, all together vanquished the beckoning tiredness, dragging her towards the land of Oneiron. Though she had nothing to fear there, contrary, waited expectantly the long hours spent on another dream journey with Sigi. But before that, her task awaited.
“Can’t believe there is a doorway to the Oubliette so close.” Aurelithae whispered in the small, high-ceilinged room devoid of windows and a door to enter. Or to be precise, hidden from the naked eye by a series of complex inscriptions etched into the thick marble and aevhen concrete. If not for the Authority and Dumath And Typhaon’s aid, it would have taken her hours breaking through each layer, to see the gap, the arched doorway leading into the lightless chamber.
Faint whispers lingered in the lightless room, belonging to a thousand voices distant, yet present all the same. “I hoped they would enlist another.
Before them, on the wall black outlines of jet or onyx slithered into a vague, softly arched doorway’s contour. So dark the lines were even in the lightless room, that for a moment Aurelithae seen it as queer, bottomless chasm hewn into the wall, with lapis lazuli hued tendrils reaching out, swiveling towards the perfect circles of gold, burgundy, emerald, jade, indigo and barely visible alabaster. At first glance, each of the elements looked decorative in function, but sensed the dimensional facet of Space Maghia lingering in each piece, shrouded so deep Aurelithae understood why they looked so mundane on first glance.
Typhaon leapt whimpering from her tautened hold, scurried over and opened his maw, breathing upon each circle. Runes appeared in the air, shattered into ethereal dust. “Thank you.” Aurelithae bent down, patted his small, horned and tendrilled head, before straightening back. She took a deep breath, lifted both her arms up. Six phantasmal arms grew from each, reaching onto the circles in tandem, forcing her will upon the dormant inscription of Space. Each alighted like torches, though the voracious darkness hindered their egress from the chamber.
As the spell activated, a worse sensation of being twisted like a rag pummeled Aurelithae, who instinctively bit her tongue, held her hands over her abdomen when an intense nausea followed the brief ache. Then all of these sensations faded as suddenly as they began when Aurelithae found herself in a greater antechamber, imposing statues of her great-great uncle, Pandoriniath stood over her, hewn out in cyclopean fashion, from a dark, glistening stalactite that themselves gave off a lifelike resemblance when it came to his long, flowing hair and scales.
“Ah, do you hear them? What a marvelous construction of mortal hands and minds.
“Poor things. To be whole again, such fears they never dreamt of
Aurelithae remained within the thick shadow of the statue, garlanding around herself as she discerned the coming of two guards. Two of the Wardens appeared, one an aurhe with gleaming fair golden complexion, long brass hair falling smoothly upon his shoulders, speckled with streaks of golden reaching the curling tips. The other, his partner the same height as Aurelithae, with a warm white-golden complexion, short hair guided along the rims of her sharply tapering, bonny face, the tip curled, the whole painted in the striking, warm hazelnut shade giving her an autumnal air.
Both wore tight, form-fitting robes of contrasting shades and draperies, sewn from the loftiest of silvery-white silken overflowing with arkhaine materia. Like most silk produced within the Empire, it gave off a rich, almost ethereal gloss, its texture smooth as butter, with little, dainty creases and folds formed as the two moved across the cavernous vista of the antechamber. Atop, voluminous collars encircled their necks, stilted up to their cheeks, the leathery shoulders stiff and flared, their outer edges curved upwards, below sleeves flared long and into broad cuffs dangling by their girdles. The chest closed by magnetically shut metallic teeth, hidden beneath a slim and lengthy placket rimmed in onyx black, just like the trims. The Sigil of the Wardens embroidered onto the back, a perfect circle closing around the symbol of Eternity, an innumerable cluster of entwining knots vaguely resembling a star. Below, the robe’s slitted skirt fluttered, revealing the light, gleaming silver greaves fitted about their feet.
Their metallic steps echoed across the chamber, ceased only when they stopped dead right in the center. There, their murmurs took the place of echoing clanks, their brows perched, observing the entrance gate wafting with materia.
On their tapering foreheads, metallic diadems bent along, set with blue and violet gems pulsing with sorcerous gleams, meagerly highlighting the trail of their veins, echoed by the rings adorning each of their long fingers. In their right hands, thudding along with their steps, long staves with metallic shafts hewn in the shape of closely clustered chains blooming into a flower of bondage atop, an orb fitted in its center, beaming the golden glow of Dawn to part the darkness before them. The golden light slowly shifted into a revealing azure and green, revealing flittering moats of the prima materia. Even a few, strange silhouette moved about in the shadows, plastered upon the dim space as if they were upon the walls.
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“Time to show of the fruits of your lesson.
“” Her gentle whisper laced with the Primordial Materia of Dumath herself skulked into their ears, right at the moment both trailed the path connected to Aurelithae.
Both froze as the spell took hold over their minds, and the sorcerous gleam of the gems faded once her will triumphed over theirs. Their cold expression changed swift, shifted into that of utter devotion, love as they approached their new mistress. Creeped out a little, Aurelithae gave a sudden command, a mental wish that ceased their rush towards the shadows.
“” Aurelithae whispered again, staring at the brunette warden. With a hiss the robe parted open, revealing a blue and black tunic buttoned up to its wing-shaped collar folded down bound by a blue cravat which voluminous folds flown towards her bosom. Aurelithae quickly caught the falling staff, fearing the alerting echoes would drawn up the nearest then the rest. Still, she could not believe the lack of hesitance with which the brunette warden disrobed herself with a mirthful smile at the joy at being chosen. A joy that hasn’t graced her since the day a century ago when she got assigned to this dreadful place.
Whilst the disrobing continued, Aurelithae turned to her partner, questioned him on the outline, on the way down to her target.
Mirayroth imparted what little his agents could find on the outline of its vast interior, but compared to what the warden before her parted on in a stream of words, it was naught much. From what little she knew about the Oubliette and its guardians; it was not a surprise. The selection itself was secretive, with only three heads of the Order and Terrianis knew the full process. If she has not met Grimslaukh, then she would still wonder how Dumath even got out, to the utter delight of the elder being slowly becoming her.
“” Once more they obeyed without hesitation, sat upon the polished floor and inclined against the dim and damp walls. Fervor in their eyes, they watched as every fiber of Aurelithae’s form rearranged itself until she wholly resembled the aevhen warden, then slipped into her uniform and left without any further word.
Stepping into the main corridor, a cylindrical recess descending deep, Aurelithae could not help but wonder at the marvel her long-gone grand-uncle achieved. A broadly stretching set of stairs twisted along the walls, occasionally melding into a flat disk of a plateau where yawning arches led where she sensed the whispers originated. Slowly she began her descent, carrying herself with the stiffness of the wardens, who vowed never the see the true light of Dawn. To her surprise, and growing unease, Aurelithae met not with many along her descent towards the deepest point.
Down to what the Warden and Mirayroth referred to as the deepest bowel of the Oubliette, six more stood in silence, a few of them humans in their twilight years, all their eyes lightless, despite their blindness Aurelithae remained certain each sensed her approach. Just as how she sensed the great layers of mental wards wreathing their minds, protecting them from the charms of kindred and higher beings. Though only up to the lesser of Dumath. Unlike with the two above, Aurelithae decided to be more careful. Once the warped whispers issued forth her gleaming lips, each of the six sighed affectionately, with the sorrow of a lover losing the dearest to their hearts.
“” She navigated through their wall, entered the door of blackened stalactite.
“I wonder what compelled such vigil?” Aurelithae wondered long strutting in the dark. She had a few guess ranging from some great entity, another like Dumath, to be used as a distraction to having the blueprints of Angura’s new endeavor kept down here.
“I am unsure of that myself. The Elhyrissiar too, cloaked this place from the prying eyes of mortals and us.
The room itself was circular, no defined corners, nor were any decorations nor of arkhaine sigils carven in the stalactite. Nor were there any source of light, only a blinding darkness the glow of her altered eyes mellowed into a black veil cascading before her face. At long last, she arrived to a pedestal reaching not higher than her waist, its surface flattened by force and not by the graceful, deft hands and wills of Earth-Callers. Small apertures hewn near the edges, chains crossed over a round object, an orb made of black and dull metal, its ridged edges white and blue gleaming ethereally from the imprisoning inscriptions of Dusk, Mind and Dawn.
Aurelithae knelt down, and whilst curious, focused on her task. The air about her right, clawed forefinger blurred as space twisted and blurred before she carved the wayfinder runes upon the stone. Far across her Vassal Form stirred in the damp room it slept, held out the small vial holding the peculiarly azure tinted crimson blood of Mirayroth, imbued with a part of his essence. It vanished from the soft palm, into the dim room–or prison as Aurelithae concluded. She dribbled a little of his blood on each of the runes where they quickly spread.
“” She whispered, her lips close to the floor, then arose and nearly started out to egress. But ceased her efforts and turned, looking at the strange object, the prison.
Aurelithae vaquely sensed another within the object, unsure at first, until a painful nostalgia stapped her in the heart. A hand pleasantly cold, soothing in the warm summer, graced her cheek before vanishing. “Are you sure of that?
As soon as her palm connected to the object, a tear trickled down her cheeks, though she knew not why. Bits of memories flashed before her eyes, most within the Radiant Keep.
In the first, she lay in bed, holding a little and pale baby crying loudly, whilst Terrianis and Augermil stood near, both wearing the same fraternal smile; then she stood surrounded by nothing but snow, whilst a foreboding forest loomed at the foot of the dreaded mountain and last before in a flash, she stood in the throne room, facing Terrianis who approached with a smile, whilst she felt the pressure of metal around her palms, held against her back.
She whispered; her voice half imbued. The soul within stirred, and Aurelithae felt the gentle hands she knew not how much she missed since the world robbed her of them. Tears streamed across her cheeks, painted dim blots upon the floor. Half warped, whispered words parted from her trembling limps as she looked up in the darkness undulating into a familiar face. “Mother?”

