“She is entering into the heart chamber.” Naghig muttered whilst stopping in hewing the little wooden figurine.

  Its form lanky, bestowed with shapely breasts, myriad long strokes cut in, signifying the long, flowing hair of straight tresses, and the folds of the long robe with a halo like extension rising up behind the head from the neckline. It still astonished him how adroit the rugged pale hands of the orkh were, as if blessed by The Prodigious Sculptor. Yet the face remained featureless, except for the gentle tapering towards the sharp chin and the dragonesque snout. Like hers. Finished with the flaring hem, Naghig placed it down and looked at him in the damp room where the two often met at the twilight of each day.

  “Any complication she ran into?” He asked in a gentle tone, his cadence low and slow.

  Naghig seemed to smile, almost mockingly as the words reached him. “Regretful?” He asked whilst reaching for his half empty cup. Mirayroth shook his head, though a little guilt lingered in his heart as ever. Not towards tarnishing Aurelithae, but more of still placing her in danger. After receiving the blessings of both the Nightscale and Grimslaukh, he brimmed with power and it gave him a new perspective.

  “Not in the sense you think. Simply I would feel safer knowing she was away from here. No longer she is necessary to our cause.” Mirayroth answered with a smirk. “What more could we gain by pitting her against Terrianis, other than putting her in peril, creating a possibility where we lose one of the key pieces in shaping the path of the new world. Naught I say.” He stared down at his pale palms, once dewy and utterly black, webbed. A part of him knew he spoke unnecessarily, to deaf ears who cared not about them, but marching on the path already set ahead.

  Though once the orkh opened his mouth, Mirayroth looked up with mild surprise painted upon his chiseled countenance. “Certainly. With both gifts, both seeds blossoming within you, bringing the Elhyrissiar down to their knees opened up before us. But I do believe it is a treacherous path my friend, one we should not strut onto with head held high, blinded by confidence.” He relapsed into a silence, yet Mirayroth spoke not, sensing more to follow. “Besides, for her it is a test and soon a desire. Would you rid her of both, take her chance of promised freedom?”

  Mirayroth said no words, answered in a firm headshake. Naghig thin lips widened into a smile, quivering him. “Last but not least, we are still far from concluding our business here. Years before the stars align, before He awakens.”

  He knew as much, attended the meeting where Ephraimur passed on what he learned from Vermius’s scrolls. What he deciphered so far. Even if he triumphed against Terrianis during the gladiatorial games, after that, the need for keeping him imprisoned would follow, a task not impossible, but would lead to the formation of new developments, new problems they needed dealing with. Problems mundane and divine of greater risks then a clash betwixt Aurelithae and Terrianis.

  The more he peered beyond the veil formed from his own confidence, the more he realized the foolishness of his own words. Naghig drawn his chin up as if contemplating on some deep matter of existence, almost convinced Mirayroth he did not just fancied it. For a mere second, he seemed to grin whilst staring at a growing black spot in the left corner towards the ceiling. His small eyes seemed distant, empty in that millisecond before he hummed in a strange tone. “Also, should have inquired about the Talos Endeavour when you tried stopping Albrion.”

  “Right, I was a bit preoccupied with meeting with them.” Mirayroth deflected almost instantly.

  From the same corner Naghig stared at, the two turned hearing soft purrs of a black cat with voluminous, silken soft fur approaching them. In her little mouth, under her flat purple nose slit in the middle, tinted with a little indigo carried a parcel bearing the feline head, the mark of Proclus. It leapt into the lap of the orkh as before, who started stroking his back gently whilst holding his free hand below the parcel. As the little feline creature stretched its maw wide in a yawn, the parcel flittered down into his pale palms, clawed fingers outstretched. She turned on her back, sprawled her legs showing her belly to the smiling orkh.

  A tender smile that still weirded Mirayroth out a little.

  “What is it?” Mirayroth questioned, noticing the orkh furrowing his brows whilst rubbing the lower jaw of the purring cat.

  He looked up with a sigh. “It’s the boy, Euthymius, little brother of Isocrates. Seems he gave up stalking our agents, and now found the hidden path leading towards Proclus’s mansion.”

  Beneath him the chair croaked a little as he leaned forward. “Is he that bothered by one child?” He said, raking his memories whom he meant.

  “Yes, with good possible reason I may add.” The feline messenger quickly got on the table and grabbed Naghig’s cup with her paws, held it firmly as it slanted quickly towards her little mouth. Though he seemed to move, Naghig relented not at the theft of his beverage. A burp from the little black cloud lightened their mood, first Mirayroth chuckled breaking the momentary silence, then Naghig after looking at the cat meandering towards the blackness which swallowed her voluminous form.

  “Seems like he is following in the steps of his brother and befriended one of Terrianis’s daughter slipping down.” At that, enlightenment shone in his head whilst his face remained calm, grinning still. Scraping his chin, Mirayroth stared down at the table whilst Naghig poured another, though only filling the cup only a quarter where it was before the cat drank it.

  “Will it matter if we leave the matter be?” He asked rising from his seat once he felt a mildly euphoric twinge in his soul.

  “No.” He took a sip. An answer he hated. Though he expected a complication with how smooth things progressed the past few years. He hoped it would turn out to be a minor one. But one never knew what the Higher Beings had in mind.

  He stared into the corner where Naghig peered before, but the black spot vanished with the cat. “Leave him be then. If he manages scaling those walls, I think that hideous plant of his will take care of our problem. If not, we shall have another pawn for the games.”

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  Naghig nodded. “Thought the very same thing.” Then took a sip and arose with the half-finished wooden sculpture. “But I doubt he shall become food for that plant.” Naghig whispered as Mirayroth flung his robe on, the imposing white and black accentuated hood drawn over his head. The moaning wall drawn out the grating of wood, the sharp blade drawn with precision on the rough surface. Beyond, warm light flooded in along the silvers of the Lunarius, as the dim alley stretched before Mirayroth. Naghig glanced at his back, a mild grin upon his shadow veiled visage, as the bricks of marble clashed into one another.

  Cold winds swept the little dirt resting along the paved road, hundreds of marble abodes lengthened along the wide curve of the district’s rim, as Mirayroth sat lone on a bench at the cross junction. Westwards to him, the road suddenly descended in broad steps towards the bridge of the Almodo, before it a small fountain and lush trees formed a small, soothing square where he spent hours each day since he arrived to Luth-Astaril. A thickly peopled square, even as the hour of midnight approached slow and steady.

  Not a single soul glanced, noticed him as he sat upon the white, curving bench, whilst he observed one or two heading home with half-lidded eyes. Peace in their heart and minds, terror at the precipice. The Harrowing, and the infrequent attacks still reminded them of the fleeting facet of peace, one easily shattered by outside forces. Be they mundane or that of the higher beings, outer intelligences.

  Mirayroth fitted his mask over his face and inhaled through its two small holes the pleasantly warm, nightly air, shutting his lids whilst enjoying the cavalcade of scents. Sour, bitter from sweat rearing its head after the long day. sweet, soothing from the nearby bakeries and coffee houses beckoning him too to lay down his head and rest. And he listened to the myriad footsteps, some gentle, other harsher as they rushed home realizing they were beyond the precipice of their curfew or only regained their sense of time after chugging down bitter meads and beer, one after the another, seldom mixed with stronger drinks to reach bliss sooner.

  One more time he inhaled, keeping his eyes shut. Slowly all sounds ceased to be at once. No more laughter, be it cheerful or forced, awkward. No more steps rushing or sauntering about his vicinity, no more the city vibrated in the murmurs of its people. Blissful silence welcomed him as he exhaled, a wide grin across his visage beneath the white mask and the voluminous hood draping over his head, swathing shadows over the porcelain. Many a time he experienced a variety of arkhaine euphoria. A warm breath on his nape, filled with care and love, a soothing cold touch against his bosom, and the oblivion of drunkenness without the dizziness and the urge to empty his belly when he reached beyond his limits. None of them were close to the exhilaration he wasted time to put into silent words ringing in his head as he watched the utterly still world where not even the wind breezed him anymore.

  “So, this is true power?” He murmured, the joy of power spicing his tone.

  Though no toll were placed upon his legs or arms, both trembled as Mirayroth arose onto his feet, a vortex raged in his soul, its saccharine, warm tendril reaching out to his body to share its astral joys with him. He looked upon his quivering fingers where the plain silver and ebony black rings knocked spasmodically into each other. A jovial, metallic serenade as they drunk up the surplus of mana drawing the Rage towards him, like the sweat drawing wild hounds towards their escaping prey. When at last the surplus left his body, the mana within his body reached out and drawn in further, lifting his body slowly away from the paved ground, into the care of the frozen air.

  Space blurred around his hands held out, his feet formed into an arch starting at his adhering ankles. Mirayroth slanted his head up, drawn his lids half-down staring at the bottom of the floating den of the Elhyrissiar, looming in the blackened sky. Taking the dragons’ share from the silvery grace of high Lunarius. He approached slow, knowing Aurelithae will need her time to egress from the Oubliette. And the view from above was quite exquisite.

  Outside, the six Wardens stood still unaware of the comings and goings in the second most protected place in the capital of the Empire. The prospect of it lightened Mirayroth’s mood a little as he peeked beyond the door, prepared to clean away corpses, but instead found the six standing idly in silence, their lightless eyes transfixed on each other. Their minds still shackled to the whims of Aurelithae, though as they left, Dumath imbued a little bit of command. They perceived not the veiled presence of Mirayroth, neither did they felt his scent nor heard the faint footsteps beyond the door, created with great enchantments letting all sound slip through the thick walls.

  “Better not tempt Fortune.” Mirayroth whispered, then strode hastily towards the peculiar orb, holding the pieced together simulacrum of Oyotarimel. One quite the same as she was in life, thanks to the potency, arkhaine magnitude of the Elhyrissiar. Upon entering, he expected the reunion between the two would have exhausted her, but contrary to that, the consciousness shackled within stirred at his presence. A serene air surrounded the orb, washing over to Mirayroth who for the first time in long decades, felt a little warmth in his chest.

  “It has been a long time, Aunt.” Mirayroth murmured. Dismayed by her greetings manifesting as a blur and a jolt of the air, creating little whispers of half words, each fading in less than a second. He knelt before the orb, his knee pressing hard into the stone out of respect for her sacrifice and for regret at not aiding her when the time came, when she chose action instead of patience.

  “Hope the reunion was as pleasant as I hoped so.” Once more came the weakened reply of a blur and half-whispers floating in the cavernous winds. He smiled, piecing together the distorted words.

  “We are nearing the end. A little more patience, and she shall be safe, back at her true home as was promised.” He held his palms out, lifted them near towards the orb. “Lord Grimslaukh’s shard, though he asks for no more jaunting outside, until the hour comes. Though all is free within the Oubliette, as I am sure like me, you shall need a bit of time to grew accustomed to it.” Upon his palms, a small box materialized out of wounds in the space, quite like those containing the slivered essences of higher beings. A weird aura enveloped it, gnawed at the dark space still.

  Touching it felt like pulling one’s hand into the Astral Gulfs or utter emptiness where existed not any sensation. Be they simple things like the warm touch of the Illius, the cold kiss of the Lunarius, the salty taste of roasted meat, the waves of beer caustically burning the inside of ones’ mouth or throat. Or be they impalpable things like the deepest of love one could found away from their home, mingling amongst the enemy or the pain of loss brought by doing what is necessary for the salvation of their people, of their realm. Just the memories of them.

  As Mirayroth held it out, he felt the content vanish as all these sensations flown back onto that small segment of his form. Though he handled his shards before, worked with them along with Naghig in grinding them into pulp, turned them into liquid forms held within vials, he could not get used to the loss of this weird emptiness. He missed it for a few minutes. “Be patient Aunt. Two more years, and we shall return home, triumphant. Hold on until the black sign manifests, distorts the skies of Elhyrissian.”

  Receiving her answer, serene and laced with the patience she lacked in life, Mirayroth bowed once more, then shadows enveloped his form and he vanished from the Oubliette.