Theurgy: Forsaken Oaths (Book Two)

Chapter 59 Enter The City of Pleasure

     Ryan felt tingles on the back of his neck as he laid his head upon the hard-packed cushions meant to serve as pillows. Soon they shall be back in Antalya; he'll see Avery one last time before he departs for the Empire and embark upon this new path he has chosen for himself. Ryan tried to remember his thoughts just a month ago, that he felt that his approach had reached an end, that he was chasing mere ghosts and shadows through the dark halls of his past. That he saw a future where he could find peace. Now he knows that his peace will not come so quickly, that he has a long fight ahead of him to decide the Fate of not only his life but so many others that Talin plans to ruin.

     He expects many sleepless nights to come for him, but he hopes that this night will be quiet. Amond is dead; he made sure of that. The children of St. Aggies should find peace. But as he closed his eyes and met the familiar darkness of sleep, it was not peace that had gripped him, but instead a rolling tide of chaos. Almost immediately after closing his eyes, Ryan felt his skin chill, the hairs all over his body standing on end as a wind that did not exist washed his senses in an unfelt cold. He opened his eyes, finding that he was not lying on his cot in a tent but instead standing in a field of blackness. The air felt thick, like he was moving his arms and legs through molasses. He still managed to lift it, raising both arms up for him to see. The six rings of tattoos on his arms were gone. And it felt . . . wrong. Even in dreams, he has never seen himself without these six markings since childhood. The air only seemed to grow colder to him, almost to the point of freezing. He walked forward with much effort. The blackness didn't seem to change around him; he couldn't even tell he was moving beside his boots, clacking against the solid obsidian floor. But after some time in his traversal, the ground began to crunch underfoot like dried leaves and coarse earth. The coldness started to shift to an unbearable heat that made his plain shirt and scarf unnecessary. The darkness began to fade into a hazy grey sky as the world seemed to come into existence. He was in a field, suddenly flat and empty of life. The dead grey grass withered to dust at the slightest touch, blowing away in this intangible wind. Ryan doesn't know where he's going, but he feels an impulse, a pull at his center telling him where to go.

     After some time wandering the wastelands, he noticed pillars in the distance, emerging from the hazy atmosphere. Six of them, each of solid black metal or stone situated in a ring around a stone platform. As Ryan approached one and set his hand upon it, he felt a slight humming in his bones. These black towers were radiating with avra so intricate; it put any spell he's ever seen to shame. He looked up, seeing that each black pillar reached up and out of view—all but one. Ryan approached it; about a hundred meters or so, it looked like it had been broken. As Ryan looked closer at the ground around him, he saw what looked like the debris from whatever shattered that edifice and fine cracks in the pillar itself. Ryan placed his hand against this pillar and felt a similar hum, though much weaker than the other. At that moment, the six rings of tattoos returned to his forearms. But now, one of them, on his left, was incredibly faded.

     The hum around him grew worst, his bones shaking in their sockets. The sky darkened, shrouding his vision until there was nothing left but the altar in the center, a stone disk five meters across and carved with ancient symbols he could not comprehend. He held the sides of his head as the humming grew even more intense, almost threatening to turn his brain into a gel. But what captured his troubles even more, was the alter itself. Something was . . . coming out of it. From the carvings, like oil seeping from the frame of a barrel, a black substance began to merge in the center. It wasn't liquid, not gas, or anything solid. It was energy, no, power. Ryan's eyes widened as the substance began to take shape before his eyes, lumping itself together and solidifying somewhat into recognizable features. First legs, then a torso, then arms and hands grasping the air. And finally, ahead. A head with no face, no other orifice, but Ryan knew that it was looking at him. Ryan wanted to run, grab a weapon, anything. But he was rooted where he stood as the creature walked across the altar towards him. Then, on it's forearms, six rings of tattoos made from pure white appeared, and the creature stopped at the edge of the stone platform as if it suddenly came across an invisible wall.