Her blood burns beneath the surge of fear, a fiery gleam in her veins as that fear embers into magic that rumbles under her skin, scorching her from the inside out. The ghul cries out behind her as she pumps her legs faster and faster, fleeing from the ghul as a disgusting caterwaul shivers through the ruins of stone.
It's dark. It's so, so dark, shadows like blankets over ashen stone rubble, the ceiling too low, too low, too low. It feels as though she's suffocating, crushed beneath the blaze of her own magic as the walls close in and the fleshy, tattered ghul thunders closer, thud thud thud thud thud.
She sprints around the corner, running through the hall into the next room, and her eyes find a statue of Circe, hands outstretched. Almost as though they're outstretched to her. Heart racing, she doesn't know what else to do but beseech at Circe's feet. She races to the Mother Goddess and dives down, clinging to the statue's legs as she prays.
Please, Circe. Please, please, please. Help me.
The screech of the ghul makes her ears bleed, a raucous shriek that throbs in her head. Something hot and wet hits her cheeks. Tears. She's crying, clinging to the statue. Please!
The ghul catapults into her and her back slams against the hard stone floor as claws tear at her shirt. She can't look at it, can't open her eyes as she cries, but her hands fling out in every which way, anything to throw it off. Its tattered flesh is gooey and gray beneath her hands, the shreds cold and dangling.
The ghul is hauled off her body, and she scrambles away, unable to find her footing as she crawls frantically to Circe. It tussles with someone else behind the statue, screeching and screaming and the sickening slice of skin. As tears bubble in her throat, dribbling down her face, she lets her magic seep through into a flame that sparks in her palm, and she chucks it at the ghul.
It squawks in pain and turns back on her, two hollow sockets pinning upon her, its sharpened teeth set in a snarl, forever exposed by a torn open hole rather than a mouth. It hobbles closer in its cattywampus creep on all fours, the claws of its hands ticking against the stone. She inches back slowly, too frightened to make any sudden move, trying yet failing to swallow her tears.
The ghul stops. It sniffs through its nose, and its head snaps to the side, tilting as it picks up a scent. It slides to Circe's feet, and as her gaze follows its track, she spots it. A honey golden gleam at her feet. A gemstone. An amulet. It glows brighter.
With no better idea, she sparks a flame in her hand and flings it at the amulet. It shatters and light fills the air, golden heat searing her skin as she is thrown back, a deathly screech ringing through the blast.
But all she sees is gold. A bright, brilliant eruption of gold and amber, and through it, in the distance, the silhouette of a person.
Lonan jolts in her sleep as she hits the ground, though the ground is too soft for it to be stone. No. This is the cushion of a bed, which she curls into, refusing to awake. She's in bed, at home, not in the rubble beneath The Ruins. However, as the unfamiliar scent of the pillows pervades her nose and as the light seeping through is realized to be much too warm for home, she groans. Right. She's in Alybe, in the western Sun-Dried Desert, far, far from the rainforest. Her joints are stiff, like they're made of a creaking wood cluttered with cobwebs, grouching as she stretches. At least the bed is warm, though, and the sheets soft. She lulls where she is, cheek squished against her pillow and curled up beneath the blankets, eyes lidded and only half-awake. Maybe just a minute more of rest. She can get away with a minute.
"Morning."
Or not.
Lonan turns her head to find Tannier in the doorway, already up and dressed, eyes bright as though he's been up for a while. She glances at the hall behind him, but she can't see any windows, so she mumbles out a question;
"What time is it?"
"Late morning," Tannier says.
Lonan curses beneath her breath and sinks face-first into her pillow, which muffles a groan as it rumbles out of her chest. Behind her, she hears Tannier chuckle. When she glances at him again, he's at her bedside, gazing down at her with an amused light in his eye. Anyone else and that light would irritate her, but it's Tannier. It still annoys her, yes, but Tannier gets a pass. He's always gotten a pass with things like that, knowing deep down that he holds no ill will.
Lonan coerces herself to rise, pushing herself up and swinging her legs over the bed.
Tannier asks; "How are you feeling?"
Lonan sighs. "My body still hurts, but my exhaustion is better. I can convince myself to do something."
Tannier doesn't quite appear satisfied in her answer, looking her over with that worried sobriety in his face. He offers her his hand, which she takes and lets him pull her to her feet. She grimaces as her hips and knees shift uncomfortably, and Tannier's hand lingers near her arm until the twist of discomfort fades from her face.
"You had another nightmare," He comments.
It shouldn't surprise her that he took notice, regardless of what gives it away, always tuned in to her. He's always been good at recognizing those little things. Lonan, though, doesn't want to talk about it. The nightmares are something she's gotten used to since she was little, spawned by stress and, as she grew older, the haunt of memory. So, she deflects, playing at humor.
"How do you know?" Lonan asks.
"You jolt in your sleep," Tannier says.
Lonan tilts her head to the side and raises a brow.
"Are you watching me sleep, Tannier?" She teases.
The pointed tips of his ears turn pink as he stammers; "No. I'm - I'm on post. I have to watch you - to protect you - I'm not - that sounds much creepier than what it is."
Lonan chuckles at his pinkish ears and his shy splutter of an explanation, which melts his fluster into indignation as he glares at her.
"You're an ass," He mutters.
Lonan grins at him, too self-satisfied.
"You love me," She argues.
Tannier shakes his head.
"Only because I have to."
The soft pad of footsteps draws their attention to the door as the light bends beneath an arriving figure, who appears in the doorway a moment later, a palace attendee. Tannier side-steps to cut his view of Lonan, who's still in her nightwear. It's not inappropriate wear, but catching a foreign dignitary in their nightwear isn't the most becoming of situations, which the attendee realizes as his gaze dips to the floor, urged by Tannier's stern look.
"Respected Pathfinder," The attendee greets.
"Yes?" Lonan calls out.
"His royal highness, the August Prince Khadri, has requested your presence for lunch."
Lonan just bites her sigh right as it finds her tongue. It's not at all surprising. She had come here with diplomatic intentions, which she has been expecting to fulfill at some point. However, it's still another task, and while her fatigue is better than the day prior, her body still aches. At least, she tells herself, Khadri is a benevolent man.
"Very well," She says. "He shall expect me."
The attendee dips forward in a bow and leaves promptly, a haste in his step. Only when he's gone does Lonan release her sigh. Tannier turns to her, eyes assessing her form as though he's trying to assess her wellbeing for this task. Lonan ignores it, numb to his worry-born habits.
With a reluctant grimace of a smile, falsely excited, Lonan says; "Back to work."
✧ ˚ · .
The royal family resides on the fourth floor of Rodbrun Palace. Lonan is led to the dining room by the attendee who had notified her of Khadri's request. She has left Tannier behind out an effort to show trust in the Selenian royal family, and though she truly does trust their good faith, she fights a bout of restlessness without him at her side. She feels exposed, left in the cold drift of his absence, a sharpness in her hearing without him to watch her back.
The dinning room is small, meant for family gatherings rather than a grand banquet, and soft beneath the golden light of noon. The royal family has already arrived, seated around the table that takes the center of the room. It's ladened with several fresh plates of flakey flatbread, cactus fruits, nuts, charred mutton, grits, and a spiced tea. It smells divine, the cooked dishes steaming, the fruit fresh and ripe, and the tea a delightful amber color.
Khadri rises upon her arrival, and though it's small, he offers a friendly smile.
"Pathfinder," He greets. "Please, join us."
"Thank you, August Prince," She says.
Lonan retains her dignity, shoulders rolled back, posture proper, chin lifted like how a proud Pathfinder should appear, but she also takes the invitation with glee, enthralled by the table set before her. She seats herself in the open chair and promptly pours herself a cup of tea, bringing it first to her nose. It's a sharper scent than the other tea, a spiced scent of cinnamon and ginger. She takes a testing sip and hums quietly, delighted. Tea is always a comfort, regardless of the flavor.
"How are you feeling?" Khadri asks.
Lonan takes another sip of a her tea before she sets the cup down.
"Better than yesterday," She says.
Princess Kahle chimes in innocently; "Better enough for the Labyrinth?"
The truthful answer is 'not quite'. Though Lonan's fatigue has been satiated after a night's sleep, there remains a mild ache in her joints. A mild ache that is easily made worse. She may feel alright enough in the moment, but a trip to the Labyrinth will leave her exhausted and pained again. However, as Pathfinder, she can't withhold from her duties, regardless of her pain. She has to push herself. She as to, the shadow of the theotans looming closer and closer.
So, she lies; "Yes."
Princess Kahle straightens up with a delighted smile, but Khadri isn't so quick to accept that answer. He glances at Lonan, his gaze objectively observant. He knows that she's lying. However, he says nothing.
"Kahle has spoken of your curious quest for Old World remants. She has mentioned that you got into trouble with Orende over your Ruins, which have drawn the attention of a species called 'theotan'."
It's the second eldest of the princes who speaks. He's long-limbed like his sister with that same oval face, but his complexion is lighter, a beige of faint freckles as though he's been dusted by sand, his nose narrower, and his eyes a faded bluish-gray, framed by ashen brown waves. Prince Kasha.
"Yes," Lonan says. "The Ruins are in the southwest Eijoa. They're remnants of an Old World city. A stronghold is at its heart. We sent an exploratory party to inspect it, and in doing so we returned power to the stronghold. Hours later, we received a letter from King Arawn expressing his anger and urging us to Orende, where he then revealed to us the theotans, who had brought forth Anrhe's Plight, and how the powering of the stronghold is leading them to us."
Prince Kasha's rather delicate features cinch beneath his distaste for the situation. The third eldest prince, Prince Kade, glances up at her as he freezes in his shoveling of food into his mouth.
"How long till they arrive?" He asks.
He's the biggest of the siblings, broad in the chest like Khadri but with a muscular stature unique to him. He's tawny-complexed with that oval face they all share, his hair a thick shock of black curls that fall into his eyes, and eyes round and an amber-flaked brown like tiger's eye gemstones.
"No idea," Lonan says.
Prince Kade sits back into his seat with a long, frustrated sigh, his plate promptly forgotten as his mouth curves into a frown.
"You believe the Labyrinth could help," Khadri says.
It's framed as a question, though in his strictly indifferent tone, it takes to the air as a statement. Regardless, Lonan nods.
"The Ruins in The Eijoa held tools left behind from the Old World, including maps of a Fallen Republic, the Republic of Corendea, where we were all one united nation. Selenia, The Eijoa, and Orende. Then, in Orende, there are carvings that depict the first arrival of the theotans, the war-state that followed, and the start of Anrhe's Plight. I believe that the Labyrinth must hold something as well, and with the impending arrival of the theotans, it's worth it to search."
Khadri's anondyne demeanor doesn't shift once, placid even in the talk of an alien force.
"And you are sure the theotans are coming our way?" He asks.
"It is what King Arawn has been saying," Lonan replies. For a moment, she hesitates, uncertain of the reactions to come, daunted by the unknown. She swallows. "And an ally of mine had come to me after The Ruins to warn us of a presence she had detected. A presence that, last I heard, was getting closer to our planet."
Khadri is silent as he takes a long breath in, his chest rising, and releases it slowly, chest deflating.
"Who is this ally?" He asks carefully.
Lonan replies carefully; "Jaedah Rinn. A human."
Prince Kasha's brows pull together with her final word as Prince Kade cocks his head to the side, face scrunched in confusion. Khadri gives no reaction. Lonan is beginning to think he never will. Princess Kahle, however, frowns.
"Those same humans you said were spying on you?" She asks.
"No," Lonan replies hastily. "I believe that those are different humans acting on a different leader's orders. Commander Rinn has enough respect not to spy on her allies."
Princess Kahle and Prince Kade, however, remain unsatisfied by such an answer, twin frowns on their face, deepening in displeasure as they share a look of worry. Prince Kasha's expression twists again in his disgust. Only Khadri remains impassive. He meets Lonan eyes, those pools of ink beseeching her silently for the raw and genuine truth.
"Do you trust these humans?" He asks.
His eyes burn into her, imploring her outright honesty. He deserves it without having to ask. Khadri is perhaps the first leader she's run into who carries a sincere weight in his actions and a candid in his words. Everyone else, even her own Torchbearers, all shrivel beneath some shadow that conceals an ill-born intention. Though, maybe Lonan's been softened to him by his kindness and their shared disease.
"No," Lonan states. She holds his gaze, open and honest. She has never trusted the humans, too big and uncertain of a species to be comfortable with them as a whole. However, she can speak on individuals. "But I trust Commander Rinn. I believe her when she speaks of an incoming threat."
Prince Kade shifts in his seat.
"I want to meet her," He states, voice deep.
However, even as he returns to his food, Lonan pays the younger prince no mind. She holds Khadri's gaze still as he scours hers for something she can't name. All she can see are his unwavering, searching eyes of ink.
"Princess Kahle shall take you to the Labyrinth the moment you are ready," He says. There is a weight in his words and a somber shadow in his eyes that makes his siblings fall still, a silence blanketing the room. "The Principality of Selenia stands with The Eijoa as a sister in the face of the theotans. Whatever they may bring, whatever they comes for, Circe is our home and our Mother. We will protect her as one. As the Children of Circe."
Something settles in Lonan. Some worried part of her that had been abuzz now settling into a quiet whisper. Selenia stands with The Eijoa. That is utmost reassuring.
"Thank you, August Prince," Lonan says. "The Eijoa is proud to stand with her sister."
Khadri smiles.
✧ ˚ · .
They depart from Alybe as the evening creeps closer and the desert begins to cool, the worst of the heat cresting off for the night to come. They take dragons, Lonan back on Beetle alongside Princess Kahle and Tannier, and fly out the same dive and opening they had come in through.
The Sun-Dried Desert is an eternal barren of golden sand dunes that roll beneath the evening sun much like the azure blue waves of the Cwyn Sea back home. Lonan hides away from the heat beneath a hooded cover she had been given, a finely knitted tan cloak, though it doesn't do much. The heat still presses upon her like a weighted blanket she can't escape, smothering her slowly as ache blooms in her joints.
As the journey drags on, beating wings over endless sand, and the hopelessness of never landing begins to settle in, Lonan spots silhouettes on the horizon. They are blobs of shadow against the setting sun, but blobs so distinct in peculiarity that Lonan freezes, peaking out over Princess Kahle's shoulder.
"Are those floating islands?" She asks.
As they near, the blobs become crumbling wedges of dirt and stone hovering in the sky, speckled by yellowish-green grass. They cluster around the largest wedge that holds a great building of sandstone, squat in height yet vast in width. Beneath it, the sand gives away to darkened earth scored and scarred, rips in the stone beneath the desert that spit currents of wind and bursts of heat.
"Welcome to The Labyrinth," Princess Kahle says.
The dragons dive through unyieldingly. They weave between the floating chunks of earth, following the wind currents that snake through like pathways on the ground, flying easily through the detritus that clouds around the wedges. They close in on that sandstone building in the heart of it all and land on the floating chunk before it, a long strip of pillowy grass that bobs beneath the weight of the landing party.
Princess Kahle disembarks first with a hearty pat to Beetle's neck as a thank you. Tannier is next, hobbling his way off the beast and turning back to help Lonan off last. However, even as her feet touch the ground, Tannier doesn't let go of her. One hand on her hip, the other around hers, he is frozen in place, grip on her iron as though one of them will fall away without it. Lonan glances back to find him pale in the cheeks, distant in the eyes, and looking anywhere that isn't down.
"It's okay, Tann," Lonan murmurs to him.
He doesn't budge.
Their party gathers closer around. Seven Selenian guards, three archeologists that Lonan has had only brief interaction with, and only one of their own; Sienn, as a second guard. It's a sizable party, one of many skilled hands that had all been chosen personally by the princess.
"We'll leave the dragons here," Princess Kahle declares.
Lonan's brows furrow. The Labyrinth resides on a separate island across a broad width of sky unsurpassable without them.
"How do we cross?" She asks.
Princess Kahle grins at her, and immediately, a sinking feeling scrapes to the bottom of Lonan's gut. The princess takes a corner of her cloak in each hand and gestures to the sky around them.
"By the wind currents," She says.
Princess Kahle takes off running and leaps off of the island as Lonan gasps instinctually, Tannier's grip tightening around her hand. However, Princess Kahle lifts into the sky, legs together and arms outstretched with her cloak in hand like the wings of a bat. She glides along a current of wind that lifts her up and around to the mouth of the Labyrinth like the hand of a ghost, and with the expertise of someone who's done this over and over again, she lands perfectly upright on two feet. Unscathed. Unharmed. Grinning back down at them.
She shouts across the way; "Use your cloak! Find the current and go for it! Beetle will catch you if you fall!"
The aforementioned dragon huffs in confirmation.
Okay. Lonan takes a slow breath in and a slow breath out. The height is nothing to her as a born and bred tree climber. It's the daunting task of figuring this out that taunts her, not at all akin to climbing. She just has to find the current and go for it. She can do that. She just has to find the current... how?
Lonan tries to step forward, but Tannier's rigid grip on her yanks her back. She swivels to find him stony faced as though he faces down an undefeated foe, shattered only by the gleam of fright in his eye.
"No," He states as his auburn curls shiver in the vigorous shake of his head.
"It's okay," Lonan says calmly. "Princess Kahle did it."
"Princess Kahle is a madwoman," Tannier bites out.
Lonan sighs. So baked in fright, he isn't listening to her. Sienn shuffles closer.
"I could go first if that would help," He offers.
However, Tannier shakes his head just as fiercely as before, firm as he stares his little brother down.
"No."
"Tann," Lonan chides.
She slips out of Tannier's hold, who startles at the escape and tails closely after her as Lonan heads to the edge of the island. She doesn't dare look down, well aware of how far 'down' is, but instead sticks her arm out to the air. Tannier promptly grabs her other arm as though she'd blow away if he didn't.
The current of wind glides past her arm, strong and steady. She's found the current. For a moment, Lonan lets herself smile in her brief second of pride. That's one part down. Now for the other.
"It's okay," She says. "We just have to go for it."
She manages to pry her arm out of Tannier's hold, but even then he watches her with wide eyes of a frightened sea, knowing well what Lonan intends as she grabs the edges of her cloak.
"Lonan," He says, caught between a terrified warning and a desperate plea.
"It's okay," She repeats.
Though her heart races in her chest, echoing in her ears, Lonan takes off running and leaps off the island.
"Lonan!" Tannier shouts.
However, in a split second, she is taken by the current. It catches beneath her cloak and lifts her up into the air, weightless in its hold. She zips up and around to The Labyrinth, and in the next second the ground is coming upon her quickly. Lonan tucks into a roll as the current drops her, and she hits the ground with a quiet huff and a pang through her body, up on her feet a moment later.
Her heart is still racing, beating wildly in her chest and as a grin takes to her face. Princess Kahle pats her on the shoulder, wearing a grin of her own.
"Not bad, Pathfinder," She says.
From the other island, Tannier shouts to her; "Lonan!"
"I'm okay!" She shouts back. "See?" She creeps to the edge of the island and waves down at him. "Get up here!"
Lonan doesn't need to be near to know that he's frowning. Sienn shuffles up to Tannier's shoulder and mutters something to his brother, who just shakes his head. Tannier grabs the edges of his cloak with such ferocity that his knuckles are white, but he freezes at the next step, staring down the wind current as though that alone could make it bend to his will. Sienn murmurs something else to him, and that appears to be enough of a prompt as Tannier swallows, runs, and leaps.
Even in his big stature, the wind current lifts Tannier up into the air with ease. He shoots through the sky, though in the swiftness he quickly looses form, floundering in the current. It spits him out unceremoniously before The Labyrinth. He hits the ground hard, tumbling across the dirt as his armor clinks and clatters, ending on his bum.
Lonan rushes over to him the moment his momentum halts. She kneels as Tannier pushes himself up into a sitting position and spits grass from his mouth. He turns a fierce glare upon the sky, but Lonan pays it little mind as she checks him over.
"Are you okay?" She asks.
"Fine," Tannier mutters.
Lonan helps him to his feet. He brushes dirt and scuff marks from his armor, grumbling beneath his breath like a crotchety old man, something about the impracticality of wind travel. Lonan just shakes her head, only trying half-heartedly to hide her amused smile. She reaches up to brush grass out of his hair and fixes his curls. Tannier falls still beneath her hands. They fall to his cheeks.
"Bravest man I know," Lonan teases.
He huffs at her, but there is the slight curve of a smile to his lips, his cheeks warm beneath her hands.
A moment later, Sienn has joined them as well. Lonan releases Tannier as the younger Na'Raffanna brother comes up to him and pats him on the shoulder.
"Told you it wouldn't be so bad," He says.
"Sure," Tannier grumbles.
The rest of the party is quick to make their way up, and in a much more dignified manner than the Eijoans. Princess Kahle rallies them all together like a shepherd dog that might be just a tad too excited. Though calm in the face, she moves with a restlessness she's never had before, antsy as they dawdle at the steps of the Labyrinth.
"In we go," Princess Kahle urges.
They climb the front steps and pass through the archway into a rounded, shadowy room of monotonous sandstone bricks and a dusty floor. There are a few tables and chairs strewn about, which Princess Kahle and the archeologists take to as they disperse papers and chiseling tools. Three hallways trail off from the room, one in front, one to the side, and another to the other side.
"Is there anything peculiar you have found?" Lonan asks. "Carvings or remains or something of the like?"
Princess Kahle nods. "Not carvings but something interesting. Come one. I'll show you."
She peels off from the group and down the center hall. Lonan treads after her, Tannier and Sienn close behind. The hall is dark, drenched in shadows, saved only by the sparse torch that flickers on the wall. The ceiling hangs low here, enough that it brushes the tops of Tannier's curls and makes Sienn lower his head, the biggest of the brothers. Separate halls branch off around corners, bending out of sight and into the darkness. Princess Kahle sticks strictly to the trail of torches.
"We've marked the way through with torches," She says. Her voice echoes among the sandstone. "We haven't gotten through all of The Labyrinth yet, but we've covered most of it. It's made of many dead ends and traps meant to contain you and let you rot." Princess Kahle glances back at them, and upon spotting their shared frowns, adds on; "Follow the light and you'll be fine."
They turn a corner and then another corner and then another. The hallway they follow is winding and long, an endless trek through The Labyrinth as they pass through shadows broken only by pockets of torchlight. Lonan's hips and knees ache. Eventually, though, a light seeps in from up ahead. The end of the hall.
They're spat out into an octagonal room with a sunken floor. The hall continues across the way, further into shadows, the torchlight distant and faded. There are spouts of a dark, burnt metal blooming out of each wall of the room, which drip into shallow cauldrons that sit on the floor, layered in dust. In the center, there lies an empty notch, a dip in the ground of a round, chiseled shape made to hold a specific item. A specific item no longer there.
"What is this?" Lonan asks.
"A collection area," Princess Kahle says. She hops over the step down into the room and lands with a soft thud. She trails along the edge, her hand feathering along the sandstone bricks. "We're pretty sure that The Labyrinth was a processing facility for some mineral, but we're not sure what mineral." She glances at Lonan and corrects herself; "Not yet."
Lonan scans the room. Metal cauldrons and metal spouts, like it had been made to work with hot, molten liquid. Nothing flammable either. Nothing that could catch fire or start a fire. The torches that light the room are too fresh to have been left behind through Anrhe's Plight. They'd been placed by the explorers. No sparks, no flames, no embers. A material that had possibly been easily combustable.
Lonan treads to the center of the room and crouches, her hips and knees popping as she lowers herself to that round, chiseled pit in the floor. Gently, she reaches out, but as her fingers caress the stone pain strikes through her arm, fierce and burning. A searing pain that blinds her vision with orange, an all consuming orange like the glare of blinding fire, and sends her stumbling back as a cry breaks past her lips.
"Lonan!" Someone - Tannier - and Kahle - shout.
Her vision clears as her jolt back rips her hand away from the chiseled pit, and she hits the floor hard, a heated pain throbbing in her hips and shoulders as she smacks onto stone. Tannier is at her side in a moment and takes her injured hand, scouring it for any visible marks.
"You're burnt," He says.
Burnt. It takes her a moment too long to figure out what that word means. Lonan's eyes draw to her hand, finding a dark burn mark on the finger that had make contact with the pit. She brushes her thumb against it and winces as pain tugs at her skin.
"I'm fine," Lonan mumbles.
With Tannier's help, she sits upright, taking it slow as her head spins. She clamps her eyes shut and wills the world to straighten itself out, reopening them again only when stability returns. Tannier doesn't let go of her, one hand around her burnt one and his other braced against her back, determined to keep Lonan upright. Princess Kahle is there at her other side, kneeling, her eyes of ink laden with worry.
"Are you alright?" Princess Kahle asks.
"Yeah." Lonan nods and tries to find something else to say. An explanation maybe, or a question to ask, but nothing comes to her as a fuzz takes to her head. "Yeah," She repeats.
Tannier turns a fierce glower upon Princess Kahle, daggers in his eyes pinning her down.
"What happened to her?" He demands.
Taken aback by his ferocity, Princess Kahle looks at him with widened eyes, her answer lagging in her surprise.
"I - " She begins only to cut herself off. Princess Kahle glances back at the pit and freezes, once again caught off guard. She shuffles her way to the empty divot in the ground. "There should be an amulet here. It's been here since we first found this place." Her brows furrow, and she mutters; "But it's gone."
An amulet. That strikes a cord with Lonan, some deeply buried, long forgotten cord which she digs to.
"Does that amulet do this to everyone?" Tannier asks.
An amulet. Orange bleeds in from the corner of her vision.
Princess Kahle shakes her head, however it's Lonan who cuts in with a weak, short answer.
"No."
Circe. Taliesin. The amulet at her feet, broken and shattered into a cloud of orange.
Tannier and Princess Kahle turn to her with shared confusion, brows furrowed, their silence questioning how she could know such a thing. Lonan doesn't know how to explain it. She doesn't even know if she wants to explain it. Not to Princess Kahle, at least, a woman she knows so little of. Instead, she redirects the conversation and asks;
"Who could have taken it?"
Princess Kahle says; "Maybe an archeologist, but we all agreed to keep it here. No one should've touched it."
Tannier's mouth crumbles into a tight sneer as his eyes storm beneath the shadow of fury.
"It's a spy," He snarls.
Princess Kahle's intake of breath is sharp and her eyes widen. However, Lonan shakes her head, resting a hand on Tannier's arm to bid him ease.
"We don't know that. We have no proof," She tries to reason. He's jumping to conclusions.
Tannier, the stubborn man, shakes his head.
"There was someone watching you yesterday in the vents. Now this 'amulet' is gone. The only people who would have an incentive to do this would be the humans." He spits out the word 'human' as though it's too vile to remain on his tongue. "Stalk the Pathfinder. Undermine Selenian exploration. Take that which belongs to us and figure it out for their own uses. It's the humans, Lonan. I am certain of it. They are here, and we have to find them."
The reason behind his argument sits like bile in her throat. Lonan doesn't want it to be true. She wants peace and prosperity and to feel safe again. However, she knows better than to ignore it. The humans have been creeping slowly over the line of respect and into the territory of duplicity. Even if it's not by Commander Rinn's orders, there have still been spies watching her. Stalk the Pathfinder to figure out her routine and strengths and weaknesses. Undermine Selenian exploration so it takes them longer to find resources. Take that which belongs to them and figure it out for their own uses, to craft weapons and technology that surpasses that of Circe. It all makes reasonable sense irregardless of how fowl its stench is.
Tannier helps Lonan to her feet and gestures Sienn over.
"I'm going to have Sienn take you back to the rest of the party," Tannier says.
Lonan shakes her head immediately.
"Tannier, no."
However, he doesn't listen.
"It's where you are safest, Lonan." He takes her hands and squeezes them tightly, meeting her eyes. "The spies can force themselves into every crevasse and crack, but I will not let them get you."
Lonan's mouth thins into a displeased line. For a moment, she has the urge to fight him on this, but she knows that he'll always win in the end. He'll always win to protect her. It's his sole duty as her guard. She concedes and falls quiet.
Tannier turns to Princess Kahle.
"Princess, may I borrow some of your guards to search The Labyrinth?"
"Yes, of course," Princess Kahle says.
Her restless glee toward The Labyrinth has fallen into stoney-faced worry. Her shoulders are taught, stance braced as though she's ready to move in a moment's notice, her hand twitching toward the dagger on her hip.
Tannier faces his brother next, a fierce gleam returning to his eye.
"Take her back outside," He commands. "Keep your head on a swivel. Don't let anything happen to her."
Sienn murmurs simply; "I won't."
He meets Tannier's bluster with a finer sensibility, quite used to his older brother's habits, undaunted by his ferocity as Sienn calmly reassures him. That, along with their blood-born trust in each other, satisfies Tannier enough for him to peel away and return to Lonan. He takes her hands again, his eyes a bright blue shining with sincerity.
"You'll be safe with him. I promise."
Lonan believes him. Of course she does. She always will. However, her skin crawls in their impending separation. Without him at her side, there is nothing she can do, not to for him or for her. What if he gets himself into trouble? A trouble he can't get out of without help, which she can't provide in their separated. What if trouble comes to her? Lonan holds only self-defense knowledge. She isn't a warrior. She's been painfully aware of that since she was a young a child, a coward since the womb. In the face of these spies, she's sure what meager skill she holds mean nothing. They'll rip through her like an arrow through a leaf.
But Tannier promised she'd be safe. Every oath he takes, every promise he makes, Lonan knows is the raw and undeniable truth. She trusts him implicitly, and she trusts him now too.
"Just come back to me as unscathed as you can," Lonan begs.
Tannier smiles.
"I will." He squeezes her hands reassuringly. "Now go."
Lonan lets herself have one more look at him, his fair face with auburn scruff of a beard and framed by curls, those eyes like the depths of a sea, eyes that are so difficult to look away from. Sienn touches her arm lightly, a signal that they should go, and Lonan uses that to pry herself away. She slips her hands out of Tannier's and steps back, so reluctant to turn away yet she has to, following Sienn's guide forward.
Still, just before they step into the hall they had come down, Lonan has to glance back. One final look back. Just one more. But Tannier has turned as well, facing down the untraveled hallway onward with his chin lifted. As she's ushered away, the last thing Lonan sees is Tannier unsheathing his sword, the burnt umber of his armor and the silver tip of his blade glinting in the torchlight.