Ablution
The dream comes like a splash, filling a void of nothing with the Haze, as if dipping one's head underwater. The fluid ripples in a hypnotic fashion, and we're pulled in deeper, into the dark halls of Ezorod. We see eight men and women standing in the ablution chamber, wearing mystical robes of gold, black, and white, covered with bizarre symbols that burn the psyche and trick the eye.
???: "We must put our true faith aside, and placate the Eshtayiv. In this way, we distract them while others complete the oubliette. To hold them until the universe dies."
As one, the eight cultists remove their robes, hanging them on stone pegs that line the walls. Their nakedness is alien in this place. There are no wandering eyes, no illusions of lust or greed. The transaction is frighteningly clinical, as if all human desire has been boiled from their souls. They wash themselves in silence, letting the water ground out any latent magical energies, and pray as the cool air of Ezorod dries their skin. Then the head priest -- the one who spoke before -- rises from his knees, and with a wave of his hand, summons a cloak of shimmering gold about his shoulders. The rest follow suit, repeating the same process, and the silence is broken. The voice of a second cultist, clearly younger, escapes from the hood of his robes.
???: "But does the Eshtayiv not love the darkness?"
The elder cultist scoffs, and then shakes his head.
???: "No, the Eshtayiv loathes the darkness. It seeks to burn it away with hateful light, which is why they doom all that they devour. Lest we imprison the Eshtayiv, they would bring an end even to the gods of the Dark Tapestry."
???: "What? Then how do we hope to contain it? Can this darkness truly keep the Eshtayiv at bay?"
???: "He is no mere shade. He is the Eshtayiv's shadow, the dark to its light. While normally they would be equal..."
???: "Ah. The Engine." The lead cultist nods, and then raises a hand towards the sanctuary. ???: "Come, brothers and sisters. It is time." The cultists gather around their leader, and exit the ablution chamber with slow steps, humming the beginnings of their prayer. But as they fade from view, the Haze stays strong, as if waiting for something else... A shadow in the corner of the room begins to writhe, and then peels itself from the wall. The two-dimensional figure twists and shakes, becoming a solid object with every motion, until a hooded, feminine figure stands in the shadow's place. Although we cannot see her face, a light hanging around her neck consumes the Haze, and shows us an image of a sparrow in flight... Rowan, the Haze tells us. Rowan Terris. Rowan: "Did you get all that?" The woman speaks to open air, but another woman's voice echos about Rowan's shoulder, as if some invisible wisp were perched on her back. ???: "Let them squabble... Should they truly bind the Eshtayiv, it will work in your favor. And if they fail..."
Rowan: "More dead Cultists."
???: "Precisely... Mistress, might I ask... What interest do you have in Ezorod?
Rowan: "None. But someone else -- an heir of mine. It may be useful to her and her friends."
???: "Ah. I see... But should she never venture here? What then?" The hooded woman chuckles, a wicked joke waiting on her lips. ???: "Oh, dear... We are not to be home for some time, are we Mistress?"
Rowan: "If you have to ask, you're already two steps behind, B. Contingencies upon contingencies." The wispy voice huffs a sigh as Rowan fades back into the shadows, and the dream fades.
???: "But does the Eshtayiv not love the darkness?"
The elder cultist scoffs, and then shakes his head.
???: "No, the Eshtayiv loathes the darkness. It seeks to burn it away with hateful light, which is why they doom all that they devour. Lest we imprison the Eshtayiv, they would bring an end even to the gods of the Dark Tapestry."
???: "What? Then how do we hope to contain it? Can this darkness truly keep the Eshtayiv at bay?"
???: "He is no mere shade. He is the Eshtayiv's shadow, the dark to its light. While normally they would be equal..."
???: "Ah. The Engine." The lead cultist nods, and then raises a hand towards the sanctuary. ???: "Come, brothers and sisters. It is time." The cultists gather around their leader, and exit the ablution chamber with slow steps, humming the beginnings of their prayer. But as they fade from view, the Haze stays strong, as if waiting for something else... A shadow in the corner of the room begins to writhe, and then peels itself from the wall. The two-dimensional figure twists and shakes, becoming a solid object with every motion, until a hooded, feminine figure stands in the shadow's place. Although we cannot see her face, a light hanging around her neck consumes the Haze, and shows us an image of a sparrow in flight... Rowan, the Haze tells us. Rowan Terris. Rowan: "Did you get all that?" The woman speaks to open air, but another woman's voice echos about Rowan's shoulder, as if some invisible wisp were perched on her back. ???: "Let them squabble... Should they truly bind the Eshtayiv, it will work in your favor. And if they fail..."
Rowan: "More dead Cultists."
???: "Precisely... Mistress, might I ask... What interest do you have in Ezorod?
Rowan: "None. But someone else -- an heir of mine. It may be useful to her and her friends."
???: "Ah. I see... But should she never venture here? What then?" The hooded woman chuckles, a wicked joke waiting on her lips. ???: "Oh, dear... We are not to be home for some time, are we Mistress?"
Rowan: "If you have to ask, you're already two steps behind, B. Contingencies upon contingencies." The wispy voice huffs a sigh as Rowan fades back into the shadows, and the dream fades.
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