Shrouds

Esei blinks.

Esei blinks a second time, black-and-white tail swishing back and forth.

Rhalkyr cocks his head in Esei's direction, eyes flicking down to track the motion
of the tail.

Echoed by a soft, dark melody, Wyrden Auspice Esei Shee-Slaugh of the Ascending Dusk says, "Ah, I
had not realized you were in here."

Rhalkyr utters a faint, amused rumble. "Is often, case. Quiet, for size." Looking
down at Esei, he studies Esei's form for a long, quiet moment, before sinking into a crouch.
"Short," he observes mildly.

Esei wrinkles their nose and sniffs.

Echoed by a soft, dark melody, Wyrden Auspice Esei Shee-Slaugh of the Ascending Dusk says, "Only a
bit."

Rhalkyr holds up his hand, and slowly brings the tips of his forefinger and thumb
together, until they are a whisper away from touching. He says nothing, but the amusement that
glitters in his eye is clear.

Esei mutters discontentedly.

Rhalkyr slides his gaze up to the topmost row of books, to which he gestures at
with a slight flick of his fingers. In a decidedly casual tone, one that fails to entirely disguise
the smile that lurks beneath his mask, he asks, "Want, lift? Can get, book, for you." A pause, and
then, considerately, "Maybe, stool."

Esei glances askance.

Echoed by a soft, dark melody, Wyrden Auspice Esei Shee-Slaugh of the Ascending Dusk says, "No."

Echoed by a soft, dark melody, Wyrden Auspice Esei Shee-Slaugh of the Ascending Dusk says, "I am
fine."

Rhalkyr nods in an amiable fashion, settling back onto his haunches. "Can stand, on
shoulders, also."

Echoed by a soft, dark melody, Wyrden Auspice Esei Shee-Slaugh of the Ascending Dusk remarks, "My
hooves are sharp."

Rhalkyr dusts off a broad, densely muscled shoulder, the motion taking with it the
occasional fleck of dried, painted stripe. "Worthy, sacrifice, for knowledge."

Esei tilts their head, beckoning for you to bend closer.

Eying Esei sidelong, with no small amount of wariness, Rhalkyr gradually leans over
towards Esei, keeping his head turned aside.

Esei places their hand on your cheek, turning your face to look at them. "Speaking of Sacrifice,"
they whisper, melodic voice pitched low. "Have you thought on my Lord's Shrouds?"

Rhalkyr leans into the touch, relaxing visibly as he utters a low, soft sound of
contentment. His own ragged voice lowers in volume to match Esei's, he replies, "Always, thinking.
Why, ask?"

Echoed by a soft, dark melody, Wyrden Auspice Esei Shee-Slaugh of the Ascending Dusk whispers, "If
you have given it much thought beyond learning."
In a deep, guttural voice, you ask, "In, what way?"

Echoed by a soft, dark melody, Wyrden Auspice Esei Shee-Slaugh of the Ascending Dusk whispers,
"Whichever way is prudent to you."

Rhalkyr is quiet for a long moment, his gaze slipping to settle upon the shadows
that linger in the corners of the library. "Try, to live, by Their teachings, every day. Am not
sure, how, successful. Still, unsure, on...Choosing."

Esei gently guides you to sit on the couch, settling on the furniture also. They briefly struggle
with their legs and sharp hooves before awkwardly hanging them over the edge to clack against the
floor, creating light tinkling sounds.

Regarding the couch with no small amount of mistrust, Rhalkyr reluctantly climbs
atop it, so that he crouches upon it, much as he would do it upon the ground. Shifting uncomfortably
on the pliant surface, he leans forward to maintain his balance, and waits quietly, eyes slowly
roving over the library.

Echoed by a soft, dark melody, Wyrden Auspice Esei Shee-Slaugh of the Ascending Dusk asks, "Tell
me?"

Rhalkyr lifts a monstrously broad shoulder in a truncated shrug. "Little, to tell.
Torn, between, beloved Divine. Spinner suggested, joining, Her Order. Asked, Him, for guidance.
Said, aspects, of all, the Glomdoring Divine, in Rhalkyr. To wait, and choose, when ready. Not
ready, because, choice causes, pain. Yes?"
-
Esei tilts their head slightly, humming lowly before speaking, the various songs of the Glomdoring
caught on their breath. "There are aspects of all of Them within each of us," they point out,
mindlessly tracing out a little pattern on their fuzzy leg. "Choices are always painful, especially
if it is between Those you love."

Echoed by a soft, dark melody, Wyrden Auspice Esei Shee-Slaugh of the Ascending Dusk asks, "Do you
think Her Order would be a good fit, however?"

Echoed by a soft, dark melody, Wyrden Auspice Esei Shee-Slaugh of the Ascending Dusk says to you,
"You are already Hers simply by the virtue of being wyrden."

Echoed by a soft, dark melody, Wyrden Auspice Esei Shee-Slaugh of the Ascending Dusk says to you,
"You would not be rejecting Her simply by joining one of the Lords' Orders."

Rhalkyr dips his chin down a fraction in acknowledgement. "Do not like, having, to
choose." A pause, in which he considers the question, and then another small shrug. "Do not know. Do
not know, if any, Order, would be good fit." Another span of silence, and then he amends, "Or, if
Rhalkyr, would, be good fit. Do not think, She, would want Rhalkyr, particularly." A slight thread
of dry humour weaves its way into his voice. "Am not, very, like spider."

Softly, Wyrden Auspice Esei Shee-Slaugh of the Ascending Dusk says, "There are also the paths of the
Rose and the Crow, within Her Order, as I recall."

Echoed by a soft, dark melody, Wyrden Auspice Esei Shee-Slaugh of the Ascending Dusk asks you, "Have
you ever been to His realm?"

Echoed by a soft, dark melody, Wyrden Auspice Esei Shee-Slaugh of the Ascending Dusk says, "Or Hers,
for that matter."

Rhalkyr tilts his masked face opposite Esei by the barest fraction. "Am not, aware,
of them. Only mention, of Rose, is beloved, Khasur." A downward jerk of his head. "Yes. Both.
Briefly."

Esei presses their small hand against your heart, easily eclipsed by the sap there. "Have you
meditated there? Felt what there is to feel?"

A minute shake of Rhalkyr's head accompanies, "Have not. Found, by, accident. Did
not wish, intrusion, offense." He makes no move to discourage Esei's touch, but nor does he so much
as twitch his own hand up to meet Esei's.

Esei rises, hooves clicking gently against the floor. They beckon for you to follow them.

With only a curious glance, Rhalkyr steps down off the couch and moves to pad to
Esei's right.

[[To Nocht's godrealm]]

Esei kneels onto one knee, demonstrating their humility and respect.

Esei tells you, "Do not speak aloud here, unless He shows Himself somehow."

You tell Wyrden Auspice Esei Shee-Slaugh of the Ascending Dusk, "Am always, silent, before Him.
Never, speak."

Dha'Kael.
The shadowy outline of a twisted forest casts a dark gloom here. Low, wide ledges of glassy obsidian
are banded across the wide breadth of the heptagonal chamber, forming labyrinthine pathways which
cross over and cut one another as they trace toward the room's centre. At each of seven entrances a
low brazier smoulders, the faint but pleasing scent of resin incense carries through the chilly air.
High overhead the ceiling is lost in dense, deep shadow, the same that pervades every corner, and
which seems to absorb the sound as well as the light. The ground and the walls are unpolished
basalt, the crystalline nature of the rock allowing faint pricks of light to glitter as diamond or
stars in the stygian sky. The star shaped centre of the chamber, where all paths meet, is open, the
floor here carved. A line extends from the right hand side of every point to the centre line of the
point adjacent, that within the first, a second seven pointed star is formed, the concentric pattern
continuing inwards. Wyrden Auspice Esei Shee-Slaugh of the Ascending Dusk floats here, suffusing the
air with the sickly-sweet scent of blackthorn blossoms. They wield a dark, curved silver athame in
their left hand.
You see exits leading north, northeast, east, southeast, southwest, west, northwest, and out.

The ghost of a smile passes fleetingly across Esei's lips as they glances at you.

Esei tells you, "Have you had the chance to linger about in each room within dha'Kael?"

Rather than respond, Rhalkyr merely shakes his head, gaze roving slowly over the
crystalline blackness.

Esei circles the center in a single motion, hooves clacking mutedly against the obsidian.

Esei quirks a brow.

Esei tells you, "Mm. We shall start with the Twilight then, as you are young yet, and uncertain of
your path."

The Twilight.
The shadowy outline of a twisted forest casts a dark gloom here. The long hall is lit on one side
with simple torches set in narrow onyx pillars, which glow with a soft light somewhere between amber
and pink. On the opposite wall a painted mural depicts the awakening, the birth, of the spirit
Night. The shrouded form of Lord Nocht stands encircled by other Elders, their features blurred.
Before Him bands of ebon darkness and silvery starlight coalesce into the form of a woman garbed
only in shadow. The mural's background depicts a perfect dusk, as gold turns to magenta, and indigo.
A broad circle of black on the horizon paints the new moon. Running the length of the hall is a
narrow black runner, upon which a simple bench of granite rests before the mural. A shallow silver
bowl has been left on the floor to the side here, filled with various small trinkets including
jewels and a small onyx egg, offerings of meaning for those who left them behind. Wyrden Auspice
Esei Shee-Slaugh of the Ascending Dusk floats here, suffusing the air with the sickly-sweet scent of
blackthorn blossoms. They wield a dark, curved silver athame in their left hand.
You see a single exit leading northwest.

Esei approaches the mural, fingers brushing reverently against the paint, expression oddly fond.

Rhalkyr pads silently in Esei's wake, his footsteps as close to utterly silent as
is humanly possible. Lingering behind Esei's shoulder, he stares at the mural in mute wonder, eyes
shining with ardent fervor.

In accordance with a silent beat you can't quite hear, Esei begins to softly hum a low, dark tune.

Esei tells you, "What is it you feel? You need not put it in words."

You think to yourself: The silence enfolds him like a cool blanket, the hush pressing close so that
his own breathing is as a whispering stream, his heartbeat a resonant thunder. The awe that wells up
from within him is pure and sweet as water from a mountain spring, infused with a delicate sense of
yearning, a filigree of faintest sorrow glimmering on the sensation. Family. Belonging. Night, so
beautiful and rich with dark splendor, so cold and distant and, like so much that possessed those
precious qualities, far beyond the reach of his clumsy, barbarous hands.

Esei lightly presses a hand against your wrist, tilting their head curiously.

You tell Wyrden Auspice Esei Shee-Slaugh of the Ascending Dusk, "**There is silence, for a long
time, empty of the coiled violence that typifies his presence. When he does reply, even the words
conveyed across the connection of the mind are hushed, subdued." Like, clay."

Esei tilts their head and listens intently to you.

You think to yourself: Clay, and earth, and stone. Rough and ill-shaped, thick and slow, gazing up
at the impossible beauty of the glorious expanse of Night that graces the firmament. So very far
beneath, in so many different ways. A rock, pining for the cosmic wonder of a realm, of beings, so
far removed as to make any connection, any striving to draw close, an impossibility. Futile.

His quiet persists for so long that it seems as if he will not answer, as Rhalkyr
stares at the mural, expression unreadable. With a minute shake of his head, he passes his hand
through the air in a small, dismissive wave.

Esei quirks a brow.

Esei's fingers reach up to gently trace the shadow and starlight playing across the mural, dark eyes
thoughtful.

You think to yourself: The beast does not join the Divine. It serves a purpose, and derives
satisfaction and pleasure from that purpose, and no more. It should not long to stand by Their side,
to touch and to hold, to love and be loved in return. Such is folly.

Esei tells you, "Have you settled your thoughts on the Twilight?"

You think to yourself: But he will be the finest, most savage beast in Their garden. He will not
disappoint them. He will burn, and burn, and burn, until the passion he feels is ignited in the
breast of all that call Glomdoring their home.

You nod your head at Esei.

The Sacrifice.
The shadowy outline of a twisted forest casts a dark gloom here. The broad basalt staircase rises up
from the northwest, meeting the long stone chamber here. On either side of it, thick green vines
entwine to serve as banisters, lesser tendrils splaying out to root them to the walls, craggy and
broken here at the entryway. The foliage creeps in from below at other points as well. Dark ferns,
fronds veined with deep purple fan out across the floor and the spiralling stems of some flowering
plant droop overhead, dotted with vivid fuscia blooms. A solid band of onyx threads the walls here,
encircling the cavernous room entirely as if bisecting it, and acting as halting point for the wild
growth which encroaches no further. Just past this line a creeping rose bush has been planted,
pristine blooms of deepest indigo nestled amidst the ebon threaded leaves, the plant stretching
overhead to form an elegant bower. Wyrden Auspice Esei Shee-Slaugh of the Ascending Dusk floats
here, suffusing the air with the sickly-sweet scent of blackthorn blossoms. They wield a dark,
curved silver athame in their left hand.
You see exits leading southeast and down.

Esei reaches up to brush a fuschia flower, humming softly.

Rhalkyr steps softly over to the rose bush, sinking down to crouch before it, with
his weight balanced upon the balls of his feet. Crossing his forearms, he rests them upon his knees,
and leans down to regard the flowers intently.

Esei tilts their head and listens intently to you.

You think to yourself: A gentle wash of fondness - That deeply ingrained appreciation of all that is
darkly beautiful, the lens which colours his perception of reality. All of Them are beautiful, in
Their way. Each, as magnificent, as uniquely perfect, as the last. How is a poor, blundering mortal
supposed to choose between Them?

Rhalkyr rises from his crouch in one smooth motion, turning to the staircase. He
makes no comment, nor does he endeavour to communicate in any other fashion.

Esei hums thoughtfully.

The Refinement.
The shadowy outline of a twisted forest casts a dark gloom here. A wide pillar stands at the far
side of the long triangular chamber, resting only a couple of metres before the point where high
walls meet in acute angle. Between the pillar and wall a small fire burns in a low onyx bowl so that
the backlit monolith looms before the light. On approach, the basalt surface of the pillar is rough,
coarse and unpolished, yet circling and coming into the light, the round column is smooth, even
gleaming, from waist to shoulder height. The flickering light catches trace hand and fingerprints
upon the polished surface. Smoothed by the hands of all who pass here, the honing of the pillar
remains a work in progress, each of myriad passes furthering the endeavour. Wyrden Auspice Esei Shee-
Slaugh of the Ascending Dusk floats here, suffusing the air with the sickly-sweet scent of
blackthorn blossoms. They wield a dark, curved silver athame in their left hand.
You see a single exit leading northeast.

Esei approaches the pillar, running their hand gently across the surface of the pillar, adding
another stroke to its refinement.

Rhalkyr's approach of the pillar is a more gradual one than Esei's, as he steps
slowly behind Esei. Coming to a halt before the column of stone, he regards it for a long moment,
green eyes gleaming in the occasional flickering flare of obfuscated flame.

Esei gently takes your wrist, pressing your hand against the surface of the pillar.

You think to yourself: Stone. Rough. Bound to the earth, with no hope of ascending to join Those
most beloved. And yet...Was he not as this lump of rock? Coarse, unshaped, but...Subject to the
careful touches of those wiser, more experienced, could he not be refined into something better? Had
he not already been blessed with His touch? The vivid memory of cold fingers upon his shoulder,
bleeding into that of the viscous hands of congealed, sanguine sap. Gentle touches, but firm, and
sure. Her hand, upon his mask, the sweet line of fire upon his neck at the kiss of Her scythe. Was
he being shaped, even now?

Esei tells you, "See that it is not the work of only one hands, but many."

Esei tells you, "We are the works of many hands, not just our own. Some hands are cruel, some kind,
some necessary, some unnecessary."

Rhalkyr allows his hands to be drawn flat against the rock, his fingers splayed as
he closes his eyes and breathes a slow, meditative rhythm. Gradually, he shifts his arm so that the
calloused leather of his palm, of his coarse fingers, hiss over the textured surface in a glacial
rasp that carries it up, and up, until he can reach no higher - to where the stone is roughest,
least caressed by passing hands.

You think to yourself: How many passes of guiding hands had it taken to achieve such a degree of
refinement, for but one pillar? How much time, how much effort, and will?

In accordance with a silent beat you can't quite hear, Esei begins to softly hum a low, dark tune.

You think to yourself: As much as was necessary.

Esei tells you, "You may feel unrefined as of yet - but I assure you, there has already been work
done, and I am proud of you."

Rhalkyr's breath flows out in a barely perceptible susurration of air, and when he
begins to breathe in again, his eyes flick open, flitting over to Esei's face for a long, searching
moment, before sliding away.

You think to yourself: Proud? Of what? He has done nothing worthy of pride. Not yet. The task burns
like a brand pressed against the base of his brain, a constant reminder of its unfinished state.
Even He was anxious to know what he would discover. He would bear the pressure, for Them. He would
serve.

Rhalkyr dips his head in a slow, slight nod, withdrawing his hand to allow it to
hang loosely at his side.

The Shadows.
The shadowy outline of a twisted forest casts a dark gloom here. A narrow corridor joins the chamber
from an odd angle near its far corner, leading away down the broadening staircase below. The only
light visible here comes from a dimly glowing brazier just outside the southeast exit. It serves
only to deepen the shadow. The floor is smooth, free from impediment. A cold draft streaming through
hall gives the sense of a vast space, even as the walls and ceiling are indiscernible in the
darkness. It carries the faint scent of Wyrden flora, delicate and sweet decay, and its cloying
taste. The whisper of the shifting air seems to grow louder and softer at intervals, this breath of
sound echoing again and again as if speaking some incomprehensible message. The darkness seems
almost liquid here, dense and giving, allowing all who linger here to sink within its depths. Wyrden
Auspice Esei Shee-Slaugh of the Ascending Dusk floats here, suffusing the air with the sickly-sweet
scent of blackthorn blossoms. They wield a dark, curved silver athame in their left hand.
You see exits leading southwest and down.

Rhalkyr steps more confidently here, despite the encroaching gloom that threatens
to engulf him entire. Swaddled in shadows, he drifts silently further away from the brazier, until
he is given fully over to the embrace of the darkness, stripes fading into the umbral shroud as
readily as flowing water returning to its source.

Esei simply clasps their hands behind their back, patient and at ease.

You think to yourself: Beloved darkness. The quiet stillness of deepest Night, that most familiar of
cradles, of loving, cool embraces. How many times had he lingered in the boughs of a tree, enveloped
in purest shadow, undetected and alone as he gazed down at the quiescent world beneath? How often
had he basked in the rich velvet of Night, silently glorying in the peaceful, all-encompassing
eternity of it?

You think to yourself: His most trusted ally, his longest companion. He would have starved, have
died, many years ago, if not for the warding cloak of shadows, hiding him from the eyes of prey and
predator alike.

You think to yourself: Peace, and the promise of violence. That was shadow, to him. The subtle
prickle of awareness, that primal dread that warned of being watched by something hungry, the
ancient force that bound predator and prey. Shadow.

Rhalkyr emerges from the trailing embrace of the dark, the vivid green of his eyes
glinting as he nears the brazier, padding over to stand by Esei patiently.

Esei tilts their head and listens intently to you.

You tell Wyrden Auspice Esei Shee-Slaugh of the Ascending Dusk, "**No words, but the sense of
comfortable familiarity, as one feels with a lifelong, trusted companion.**."

You nod your head at Esei.

A look of understanding crossing their features, Esei nods their head slowly.

The Beauty.
The shadowy outline of a twisted forest casts a dark gloom here. The angled cavern here is flush
with life, creeping vines cling to the walls, leafy fronds of rich purple and green dipping out into
the open air. A statue in jet dominates the centre of the room, a nude female with palm outstretched
and eyes closed, long hair ebbing down her back in shadowy tresses, a serene smile playing across
her lips. Creeping at the base, a softly glowing moss casts a silvery blue glow across the floor,
stretching outwards to be lost beneath wide-leafed plants of vivid greens. Puff spores float like
dust motes in the air and overhead specks of shimmer dot the high dark ceiling like stars in the
night sky. Shallow puddles of dark crimson blood seep into the undergrowth, the heady, coppery smell
mixing with the lush scent of loam. Shadows shift all around here, revealing one moment a streak of
vivid colour and concealing it the next. It is warm here, the air faintly humid. Wyrden Auspice Esei
Shee-Slaugh of the Ascending Dusk floats here, suffusing the air with the sickly-sweet scent of
blackthorn blossoms. They wield a dark, curved silver athame in their left hand.
You see a single exit leading east.

Esei steps over a puddle of the blood, moving to stand in front of the statue. They press something
small and silver into the statue's hand - a little silver star, which glints softly in the little
available light.

There is no hesitation in Rhalkyr's movements, but nor does he hurry onward.
Instead, he moves with the hushed reverence of an acolyte brought before the holiest of relics, his
steps slow and measured - heedless of the blood that seeps about his bare feet, welling up between
his toes to leave a sanguine slick upon his flesh, as waves lapping upon a golden shore. The myriad,
splendiferous works of beautiful flora are paid no mind whatsoever, with his eyes not flicking their
way even for the briefest of moments. Instead, his gaze is locked upon the statue that resides in
the middle of the area, the shadowed green of his eyes locked upon the unseeing jet of the female
figure's own. As he finally draws near, his hand lifts, as if of its own volition, to brush the
blunt tips of his brutish fingers along the edge of her outstretched palm, a sense of yearning
emanating so strongly from the hulking figure as to be nearly palpable.

Esei tells you, "Who is that you think of?"

You think to yourself: Beauty. So much, here, was beautiful. His mind, his heart, rife with an
aching longing to touch, to hold - made sharp and cutting with the irrefutable knowledge that his
monstrous hands are too brutal, too clumsy and unworthy to ever cradle it close without breaking it,
that even his merest touch would mar it. A sin beyond comprehension.

You think to yourself: Who? All of Them, of course. All of the Glomdoring, with its twisting, secret
paths, the warped boughs and roots bathed in deepest shadow, the savage glory of it. The people, in
all their imperfect allure, melding together into a beautiful whole that was breathtaking in its
magnificence. But, Them. Most of all, Them. Blackpetal. Silent One. First Among Predators.
Coldshiver. Night. Others, that may yet lurk beyond the bounds of mortal awareness, or have yet to
come into being. The beauty of potential, of the unknown.

Rhalkyr does not answer, instead leaning his head down to rests the barest edge of
his mask's cheek against the outstretched fingers, eyes closing. A soft sigh escapes from the
confines of his mask, and he withdraws.

Esei quirks a brow, but otherwise remains silent.

You think to yourself: Not for him. Never, for him. To look upon from afar. That he should be
privileged to do so was honour beyond compare - He should learn to be content with this.

The Silence.
The shadowy outline of a twisted forest casts a dark gloom here. A narrow corridor to the west leads
inwards to an open room. Walls and floor are glossy obsidian, smooth and polished. The triangular
chamber is wide, high glass filled windows at each corner allow natural light to illuminate this
space. Stark and unadorned, the vast hall is utterly empty. The softest whisper, merest footfall,
ringing a cacophonous echo, reverberating up the high walls and back again and seeming impossibly
loud. Yet these are the only sounds discernable, all noise from outside this place well dampened.
Wyrden Auspice Esei Shee-Slaugh of the Ascending Dusk floats here, suffusing the air with the sickly-
sweet scent of blackthorn blossoms. They wield a dark, curved silver athame in their left hand.
You see a single exit leading west.

Esei clacks their hoof lightly across the floor, echoing harshly into a deep, rolling resonance in
the silence of the room.

Even Rhalkyr's capacity for stealth is unfit, here. He freezes in place when he
sets his foot down - A typically soundless act rendered a rasping stage whisper, the coarse hiss of
leathery sole upon polished obsidian robbing the hulking figure of motion as he hunches inwards.
After a long, long moment, he gradually uncoils, but makes no move towards pushing further into the
room, poised instead with one foot forward, fingers stretched into curving claws of suppressed
action.

You think to yourself: Oh, he does not like this. He does not like this /at all/. How is he to move,
when even his quietest step announces his presence like the crash of thunder?

You think to yourself: Mounting distress. Countless years of studying the great hunters and their
movements, of painstakingly learning to mimic their ways, the fluid roll of powerful muscle, the
silence of each terrible step - For naught.

Rhalkyr abruptly backs out of the room, tension making his motions stiff.

Esei places a gentle hand on your shoulder.

Esei tells you, "It will be alright. Do not fear the Silence."

Rhalkyr's muscles jump and twitch at the contact, his shoulder almost thrumming
with suppressed agitation - but he does not seek to dislodge Esei's touch.

You can hear the sound of blood pumping in your own ears. It's so loud... All must hear it.

Esei tells you, "It is alright."

Esei gently guides you to the Amalgam, dark eyes calm and serious.

The Amalgam.
The shadowy outline of a twisted forest casts a dark gloom here. Coming to a point at the northern
edge of the chamber, the high walls extend upward into deepest shadow. Narrow stairs rise from an
opening near the centre of the room, a mere open rectangle in the ebon stone floor. The statue of a
shrouded figure stands looking out across the room, expressionless and depicted with only vague
features, a simple stone bench resting before it. Narrow onyx pillars stand at intervals throughout
the room, seven in all, with no particular pattern to their arrangement. Each pillar is draped with
an indigo shroud, and burning atop each is a strange blue fire. The air is cool despite the flames,
which do not flicker in the faint draft rising from the stairwell. Wyrden Auspice Esei Shee-Slaugh
of the Ascending Dusk floats here, suffusing the air with the sickly-sweet scent of blackthorn
blossoms. They wield a dark, curved silver athame in their left hand.
You see exits leading south and down.

The tension that crackles about Rhalkyr like static gradually fades, diminishing
with each step that takes him from the Silence. Within the Amalgam, he pauses, eyes flitting
immediately to the statue, which he studies at length, his eyes unreadable.

You think to yourself: Silent One. Beloved, revered, adored. Anxious, for him to complete his task.
Anxious. A turn of phrase, or a deliberate choice of words? It gnawed at him like a termite upon the
roots of a sturdy sapling, chewing at his thoughts with tiny, incessant bites. What would happen to
Him if he failed?

Dust and bits of stone rain down from above as the temple slightly trembles before all returns to
gentle silence.

Esei furrows their brow in thought.

You think to yourself: A sudden surge of violent, furious determination - He would not allow
anything to unmake Him, not without giving everything that he was, that he could be, to prevent it.
A beast he might be, but what was a beast, but a savage deterrent? What tools did a beast possess,
but toothed maw and rending claws?

Rhalkyr stirs from his reverie, twitching as fragments of debris patter upon his
shoulder. He looks up, eyes thinning, then over to Esei, before following.

With lethal grace, a muted slaugh steps forward from the south.

Esei frowns slightly, eyes sweeping over the abyss.

A muted slaugh looks Esei over coldly before turning her gaze elsewhere.

Esei furrows their brow in thought.

Off in the distance, two large platforms collide into each other with a mighty crash sending chunks
of stone and foliage showering down.

Esei watches the platforms collide, dark eyes sweeping to observe the temple below.

Rhalkyr's attention flits from Esei, to the slaughs as they move in and out, then
snaps back as the two platforms slam together. Uttering a brief grunt of surprise, he looks to Esei,
a questioning rumble shuddering forth from his throat.

Esei tells you, "The platforms... are normal. I have seen them before. But... the temple does not
normally shudder."

Esei tells you, "I advise you go - I can deal with whatever arises."

You think to yourself: Cause for concern? Perhaps.

You think to yourself: Ah. Sending the child away, while the adults deal with the problem. Of
course.

You nod your head emphatically.

A muted slaugh looks down at the temple, glancing silently at Esei before she wanders off to survey
other parts of the realm.

[[Rhalkyr leaves.]]