"Do not breach the depths of the Thalamum Draconum ere thou art prepared to endure its heat." Bade Aværys, troubling himself to avert his gaze from his own reflection to cast a lazy glance over his bare, bronzed shoulder toward the Vastian girl.
"It hath been many a century since last We did treat with Zalkyrion's brood. We know not what manner of reception thou'rt like to face, but They will know at a glance on Whose behalf thou art come." Varvara added, the gravity in her voice applying additional weight to Her caveat. Even so simple a task as delivering a missive was not to be regarded lightly when the intended recipient was so lofty.
"Thy service and thy sacrifice be all the gratitude We require of thee." Midnight's mother noted, as she turned her back to Hilana and glanced down into the pond where he brother preened at his lustrous golden locks.
"Go forth. Speak of thy task to Our descendants who did travel with thee that they might aid in thine endeavours." The heat from the sun above seemed to lighten as a heat from below burgeoned. Before her eyes, the oasis' watering hole shifted from a cool, refreshing pond to a bubbling pit of lava. It seemed to melt the sands around it until the solid obsidian surface of the volcano platform supplanted the desert scene.
"Excelsior!" Aværys thundered as, with a blinding flash of light both Founders vanished and Hilana found herself once more before the altar, but she herself was altered. The Rune conferred in her vision, remained upon her hand. The mask and scroll case were not in the bag where she'd placed them, but upon the altar before her in the place the tarantula had been bound.
For the others waiting on the opposite side of the obsidian bridge over the mouth of Kaladon, it appeared as if little to no time had passed. Phocion was just regarding his own newfound mark with Cithæra and Raithen at his side.
"It hath been many a century since last We did treat with Zalkyrion's brood. We know not what manner of reception thou'rt like to face, but They will know at a glance on Whose behalf thou art come." Varvara added, the gravity in her voice applying additional weight to Her caveat. Even so simple a task as delivering a missive was not to be regarded lightly when the intended recipient was so lofty.
"Thy service and thy sacrifice be all the gratitude We require of thee." Midnight's mother noted, as she turned her back to Hilana and glanced down into the pond where he brother preened at his lustrous golden locks.
"Go forth. Speak of thy task to Our descendants who did travel with thee that they might aid in thine endeavours." The heat from the sun above seemed to lighten as a heat from below burgeoned. Before her eyes, the oasis' watering hole shifted from a cool, refreshing pond to a bubbling pit of lava. It seemed to melt the sands around it until the solid obsidian surface of the volcano platform supplanted the desert scene.
"Excelsior!" Aværys thundered as, with a blinding flash of light both Founders vanished and Hilana found herself once more before the altar, but she herself was altered. The Rune conferred in her vision, remained upon her hand. The mask and scroll case were not in the bag where she'd placed them, but upon the altar before her in the place the tarantula had been bound.
For the others waiting on the opposite side of the obsidian bridge over the mouth of Kaladon, it appeared as if little to no time had passed. Phocion was just regarding his own newfound mark with Cithæra and Raithen at his side.