alsoquin The Fable of the Reconstruction hangs in the great cavern that surrounds the ancient abandoned city of Rintoko, its inhabitants now in possession of one additional shard of the long-lost Chime of Ages.
Imrama "The weapon is nearly complete, Empress. Do we return to The Fivescore Realization of Truth, or press on to the Great Mountain?"
Lucent hands the piece to Zahara
Zahara runs her fingers along the new piece. "As much as I hesitate to rejoin the arguments, I suspect we should seek the last piece together." She looks down at the shard, seeing her reflection, feeling a strange tugging at her heart. "We should return quickly."
Imrama "Then we shall not tarry." Imrama's eyes look far away for a moment, and then the Fable of the Reconstruction swoops down from overhead and comes to rest just off the cavern floor. In bounding strides, Imrama crosses the air to the ship's deck.
Lucent walks after them, without much to say but to prepare... for whatever lies ahead.
Zahara lifts herself on crossed swords, and drops lightly to the deck.
Imrama takes hold of a dragline, and gives the order to heave, bringing the vessel about to return from whence it came.
Imrama Weaving through the flows of an angry wild, the Fable spills out into onto an unwelcome scene. The ship has found the Seven Leagues of the Looking Glass again, but the infinite sea is not as they left it.
Zahara "Imrama? Does this usually happen when you travel?"
Imrama Lightning shoots back and forth between water and sky, though from moment to moment, it can prove difficult to distinguish between the two, each stained red and black in alternating, ungulating arrangements.
Imrama "I have spent years crossing this expanse, and have never once seen it offer the slightest variation. If the Seven Leagues have fallen ill, I shudder to imagine the fate of less constant realms."
Zahara 's lips tighten, and her fingers grip the railing. "Well. We can't let this stop us. Can you navigate through it yet?"
Imrama "I was reared upon the fathoms of the sky. There is no patch of air, however foul, which I cannot wind my vessel through."
Imrama lets slack his line to buoy the ship further aloft, out of the reach of the cresting, many-toothed waves. The sea below screams, in anger or in hunger, as the three press on to their destination.
Zahara walks over to Imrama and puts her hand on his shoulder, lending silent support.
Lucent closes his eyes, and prays for the Sun... for even in those realms, even if he has forsaken them, he shall give Imrama his light, for he is one of his chosen.
Imrama Crossing out of the storm-red sea, Imrama steers through a particularly deadly section of the Deepest Wyld. The tides of possibility are deceptively calm here, only surging to birth new impossibilities every third minute. Still, Imrama holds the line with utmost concentration - he must keep that point, that one terrible point, just out of range of ear and eye.
Imrama Should any aboard ship catch a glimpse of its emptiness, or hear even a whisper of its utter silence, then all would be irretrevably doomed. He gives the order for his crew to bring pots and pans above decks, and beat out a cacophany to drown out the noise of the neighboring Void. "Close your eyes." He warns his friends.
Zahara glances up at Imrama, then nods and closes her eyes.
Lucent has his eyes already closed, of course, chanting the Psalm of Seasons, for the Sun passes through Creation, changing it, unimpeded.
Lai Misuna The Solars plunge into the path that Imrama has cut -- and though the cacaphony drives off the Void, the slightest... something brushes their minds, just before they slip into Creation: A darkness -- lined with endless teeth.
Zahara feels a chill run over her skin, wondering if that darkness is the one Slunahi spoke of