Gior's galdori temple city and also most populated. Home of the ruling Gioran family as well as the center of Gioran education with both the Temple and the University in the same location.
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7th Ophus, 2719
CHURCH OF THE ETERNAL CHILD| ONLY IMAAN KNOWS
They were running, breathless and blind in the darkness, the sounds of their footsteps echoing off cold lifeless stone and disappearing into the abyss she knew was beside them. They couldn’t see it in the dark, but they could feel it, a strange prickling sensation on their skin and a vastness pressing against their fields. From the darkness, a horrible screeching assulted their ears, the sound of something unnatural. Something angry. It morphed into a man’s desperate scream, full of pain and rage so vast that it seemed to rattle her skull.
They were running, thick black smoky tendrils curling around their feet, making it harder and harder to move. She called out to the Anaxi, looking for him behind her, but he wasn’t there. He was nowhere. The darkness glowed red, brighter and brighter, black smoke holding her in place like an ant caught in blistleberry sap. Athrym screamed, two fiery eyes staring into her very soul. She screamed as flames licked her pale skin and singed away her platinum hair. She screamed as a great mouth opened wide and the sound of the ground splitting asunder filled the void of her mind. She was burning, burning alive!
Athrym screamed, her field pulsing as she sat up suddenly, opening her summer gaze and looking around in brief confusion. Almost immediately, there was a figure by her side, a child priest nearly old enough for their Holy Pilgrimage with quartz dusted skin and silver edged robes.
“Ambassador Bruthgrave, beah calm. Deeueh ay yalayhuah daahthah. Deeueh ay yalayhuahAmbassador Bruthgrave, be calm. You are safe here. You are safe.” The petite Gioran stared at him for a moment, gathering her senses as dreams faded. She was in the Church Of The Eternal Child, the hospital wing of the great carved place of worship. They’d been brought directly there after exiting The Deep, the trip a blur of half memories and half imaginings. She couldn’t recall being placed in the bed, but she had visions of waking and asking for Naul.
“Where is he? Where is Nauleth Siordanti?!” The woman asked sharply, pushing the covers of her bedding aside and swinging her legs over to rest bare feet on soft fur rugs. The priest made to stop her, pausing when she flexed her field in warning. Nodding his head, the boy—only a few years younger than herself—gestured to the doorway and continued the conversation in excellent Estuan.
”Most Esteemed Siordanti is in the lower half of the wing, where the Advanced healers work. He is—oh Ambassador that’s not…” Athrym ignored him, moving to stand on surprisingly weak legs. She looked down at her clothing, a pair of hospital issue white silk pajama’s, and frowned at the priest.
“Why am I dressed like this? Why am I so weak? How…how long have I been here?” She asked softly, moving with cautious steps to the doorway, turning her head left and right for a moment before following the carved markings that indicated the direction of her fiance. The young passive followed rapidly behind her, making gestures to others in the hallway to indicate they should get help.
“Yourself and the Anaxi have been here for a few days. The healers kept you sedated, for your own good. You have been…talking…in your sleep. Whatever it was you did in The Deep, you were only a few moments from possible severe backlash. You needed to rest.” Poking her head into rooms as they went, the blonde frowned and looked at the magicless being.
“And Nauleth? Is he…?” The words stuck in her throat, field drawing close for words she didn’t really want to hear. The priest shook his head and gestured onwards.
“He is alive, if that is your question, though he is not in a good way. His injuries required extensive magical assistance, but even then the healers can only work in short bursts. They had to re-open the wounds you closed, clean them and remove infection. The wound on his shoulder was already sour with infection, assumptions have been made that this may be some sort of toxin? Ambassador Bruthgrave, what happened to him?” Athrym stopped, turning to look at the priest with a hollow stare, unsure she could even find words that didn’t sound like insanity. She felt like a mad woman, long almost white hair loose and unbrushed, dark circles under her eyes and no makeup to accent her features. Wetting her dry lips, the Gioran felt her skin crawl with goosebumps as a single word escaped her.
“Hatchers.” A noise in the hallway ahead of them caught the blonde’s ear, and she turned to see a cluster of people, notably Gioran save for one.
Her clocking father.
They stood outside of a room that she could only assume was Naul’s, and with a determined scowl the petite Ambassador moved towards them.
“Athrym? What the devil are you doing out of bed girl? You should be resting.” Lord Bruthgrave said loudly, his auburn moustache twitching and his round face flushed, summer gaze stern. Sweeping through the people, Carmell came to her daughter, embracing her with un-Gioran like emotion.
“Oh thank the Eternal, you are safe my daughter.” Holding her arms out to gently push the woman away, the blonde blinked as her father approached with a stern finger in her face.
“What the clock happened down there young lady? How the bloody hell do I tell Hadrian that his son just about died in Qrieth on what should have been a safe trip.” The young Bruthgrave glared at her father, small fists balling tightly and field flaring.
“You can tell Hadrian that his son just saved your daughters clocking life. Is that good enough for your political arrangements Margol, or your wedding plans?” Not willing to wait for a reply, she shoved past the flustered Anaxi, moving towards the doorway.
“Ambassador! Ambassador thank Imaan you are okay. I was not sure if you—” The blonde turned at the familiar voice rapidly approaching her from behind, and without hesitation she drew back with her small fist and struck Professor Meakean squarely across the jaw. Her parents called out her name in shock, and the older man stumbled back from her with surprise on his features. Athrym felt her temple throbbing and her field rippled with rage.
”You left us, you coward! You left us all to die, you horrible agheysekay!abomination! Stay away from us.” A hand fell on the petite woman’s shoulder, and she spun defensively, meeting the calm and collected gaze of Lomenak Da Huane.
“Give the Ambassador some room, all of you. There will be time for questions shortly, once we have Brunnhold connected through the scrying Stone.” Turning the barefooted, confused and angry younger woman, Lomenak guided her towards the open door.
“Go to him, but know that there are a lot of questions that need to be asked. We will give you a moment.” Nodding gratefully, Athrym left behind the madness of the people lingering in the hallway, entering the white carved room and approaching the bed where Nauleth was being kept. A silken curtain was drawn around the bed, giving the man some privacy from prying eyes.
“Naul?” She called, almost scared to see what was behind the curtain.
word count: 1266
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