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Chapter 12: For you were once Darkness

The room exuded opulence, filled with the perpetual fragrance of oils, exotic and alluring. Shadows lingered in each corner, hinting at unspoken desires.

Candelabras softly flickered, casting a cascade of enchanting colours onto the canvas of the room revealing gold, green, purple, and orange hues.

Casually striding with practiced precision and elegance, she moved, her hands deftly orchestrating preparations like a skilled maestro. Her refined upbringing honed her exactness. Every detail was meticulously chosen with painstaking attention, for this woman bore an uncanny knack of remaining unseen. She thrived in the artistry of staying hidden.

The silky robes fluttered around her, a majestic shroud of black. A gown of liquid night, ready to envelop her. Her fingertips hovered over it, gently caressing the intricate sewing.

Attentively, she adorned herself with each layer, aware that it served not only as a shield from nature's whims but also protected her from curious onlookers who might identify her. Her reflection in the mirror cast a dark shadow, obscuring her in an enigma of allure and mystery as she pulled her hood over her head. No telltale sign betrayed her true appearance; she concealed herself within the ordinary, hiding behind familiar eyes.

Securing the final fastenings of her cloak, she smoothed out its folds. With a satisfied sigh escaping her lips, she extinguished the flickering candles, pinching each wick between her fingers, their glows fading into wispy trails of smoke. Stepping out into the refreshing chill, she locked the door to her chambers behind her. The woman's steps held a determined rhythm; her destination? Chestme's Brown Province. In that area, a suffocating blanket of poverty hung over twisted streets.

The hooded woman glided through the shadows and energetic crowds. The city was a maze of baked brickwork, imposing towers, and congested building clusters, overlooking its inhabitants. She maneuvered effortlessly through the convoluted stairways and precarious ladders, delving deeper into the city's underbelly.

The Glenoids were oblivious to her passing presence. She flowed seamlessly as an unseen and unfelt specter. Hustling market stalls and majestic squares flashed by as she navigated toward a steep and dark stairwell. Descending, she came across another set of dimly lit stairs and stepped down.

The way unfolded into a grand central space. To one side, white towers punctuated the horizon, while across from it lay a ladder leading down along a dilapidated rampart to dirt-layered streets.

As the descent began via the ladder, the air grew thicker, and the sounds of the upper provinces diminished. The streets below were narrow and eerily quiet with few lizard-folk.

Surrounded by decay and squalor, she reveled in the darkness, finding an enigmatic vibrancy within its depths. The moist scent of soil filled her lungs as she advanced through shadowy alleyways. She couldn't help but smile as she wove her way through the sparse crowds, her many fabrics brushing against the rough walls.

The dawn was breaking but its light failed to infiltrate the murky recesses of Brown Province. Unfazed by the approaching dawn, she continued toward the black-scaled necromancer's home.

****

Hidden in the desolate heart of Chestme's Brown Province, behind a worn-out purple curtain, Nammen Pythia conducted arcane rituals. His dwelling, hidden near a deserted well, served as a sanctuary for those in search of links to other realms. Whispers of his name, "Servant of the Night," were renowned throughout the province with hushed reverence among those desiring wisdom that surpassed mortal sight.

Inside, beyond the tattered curtain, the room was modest - a floor scattered with pebbles and a well-used fire pit at its heart casting swaying silhouettes. Sitting stones had been arranged in mystic patterns. Nammen, a seasoned seer, traced symbols through the air while whispering age-old incantations. His intent was clear - he yearned for guidance from those beyond the mortal coil. Each word he whispered into the dancing fire was a plea for insight, and the flames responded with an otherworldly glow, illuminating his black scaly skin.