Lotus

Chapter 4: Roles to Play

The motif of dread that exacerbated the ache of despair slowly began to die down, the thunderous roars of the sirens withering alongside the dim light that spelled prosperity before them. Tribulation struck at the heart of their consciousness, and the echoes that spelled the horrors of their previous expeditions resurfaced. Each teaching, lesson, skill, every experience honed for this one, single journey. The cessation of an incessant war.

Down they descended, marching into the insidious grasp of death's promise. The metallic halls bore a shallow gray, its thinly striped, blue lines coursing down the middle exuding a comforting glow, only to be drowned under the chilling intensity of the shadow's embrace. The variety of halls that blended slowly began to merge into one, grander passageway, an expanse where the paradigm of solace and comfort dimmed under darkness' insatiable hunger, consuming all in its path. Yet, despite what spelled peril for them, they pushed; undeterred, unperturbed in the face of the monster they faced countless times before.

The foreboding whirring of machinery danced in their ears as they neared Stanislaw's office, the mechanical hum of familiarity that haunted their memories whispering its foreboding tales to them. Creeping from the shadows before them was the gateway to a world of terror, a grim reality that structured itself off of its ubiquitous iniquity, a skyless, nauseating world, vacant of the embers of humanity present in the scant sanctums of empathy.

Ruled by callousness, there was one rule for entry when stepping through the door of evil, one prerequisite that defined one's ability to flourish in the reigns of darkness's deepest depths.

Their ability to leave it all behind.

A palpable trepidation blazed deep within his soul, burning his spirit ever brighter. With a thickening tension surging within his gut, Vorion stepped up, vacuously placing his palm against the ashen scanner plastered against the wall, and after a momentary beep signifying its approval, the grand, reinforced doors began to slowly split open.

Breaching the veil of uncertainty was a visage engraved into their minds, a smile pure, not sullied by the defects of their world, gleaming with grace only able to be fathomed by the fortunate few who were blessed with its presence.

Stanislaw Adir.

The man stood behind a meticulously designed table; an assortment of patterns and holograms spread across its surface, its cyan glow juxtaposing the structure's crimson hue. It was nearly as detailed as the rest of the expanse; a dim room clad in differentiating technology, ranging from the several surveillance footages scattered across cardinal areas of the South, the plethora of billboards utilized for planning and organization, a screen that displayed the heat signatures of their surrounding compatriots to ensure safety. Not out of concern for their people, no, no, but purely to elude any sort of sneak attacks from the outside. The facility was littered with diligent attention to detail, means of security woven into its build at every turn.

With the promise of abolishing the current state of their world lingering in Vorion's head, he couldn't help but think similarly to his wife for a moment.

For as long as he could remember, Vorion was a product of the iniquity of their world, acting purely for the sake of himself and those he cared about. He never stepped out of his way for another's life, he never empathized with the people suffering from ruin more than he was. He functioned strictly for the solace and prosperity of himself and those he cared about, those who benefited those he held dear in the long run. So as long as they were okay, nothing else mattered.

Of course, being married to Meydem had augmented that view in the slightest; after all, the woman he loved the most wanted nothing more but to be that light in the darkness for other people. And even if he ideologically never concurred with it, he went along with it anyway. For her sake.