
The nuit started up the northern path, but soon was cut off by Shroud. Ray was given his reminder that his body, like the rest of the undead, couldn’t take much of a beating. However he just nodded, ”Very well then…” he said letting the murderer who he teamed up with back in Sunberth take the lead. He certainly did not mind having the extra protection, and although their ‘relationship’ has had both ups and downs their partnership still remained. The alchemist would never have guessed maintaining such useful connections were to be such hard work. It bothered him, but he knew that it would bother him if he didn’t have the man’s steel and magic on his side, and so he took the lesser of two evils. So he thought…
The place still reeked of decay and death, something that the nuit himself didn’t mind. He had gotten over the smell years ago, but in his mind a curious thought entered: how did the mortals fare? It wasn’t that he really cared, or so he tried to convince himself. It was that this place had the seeming, gave the nuit a feeling, that all of their skills and abilities would be put to the test here. These were ancient ruins after all, and he remembered in the last one they ran into a Journeyman. What horrors would they run into here? What secrets did the shadows hide? What kind of magic guarded this place? These were all questions that came to him as they walked down the corridor, the long narrow passageway which would lead to wherever the cursed manacle would take them. He noticed that the pull got stronger, and it pulsed with more energy. It was certainly reacting to something.
The shadows nipped at their feet, dividing only to let the light and those in it pass, only to quickly swell up again once the light has passed. Their steps had a sort of wet echo to them, adding to the rhythm of the already wet place. Water was dropping from the ceiling; the droplets fell and from its collision with the ground below it made a certain noise. This noise seemed to dominate what the nuit was hearing. He was becoming almost lost in them, almost mindlessly following the tug of the metal bracelet around his wrist. There was no thought only action.
Finally the pathway began to widen as walked. The nuit noticed the walls moving farther and farther apart, becoming more consumed in the shadow as the three were led by the small light of Hadrians fire. The more they walked the more cautious the nuit became. If he was living he would be sure that his heart would be beating just a little faster as this sense of anxiety, this sense of worry set over him as another feeling came to him. He could feel something, something was there with them. Breathing, living… It was enough to make even the nuit shudder. This feeling was something else. He had never quite experienced it before in all his years. It was new, interesting, but slightly intimidating. Not that he would ever admit that to those who kept him company now. He was sure that they too felt it, that presence.
Something made the nuit stop in his tracks and turnabout. He craned his head as he turned looking behind them in the shadows only to notice a faint outline. A door. Curious. ”Shroud.” he called, to the one leading the way, ”It seems that way is no longer the direction.” he muttered looking down at the ancient manacle, feeling its tug towards the door, ”It’s that way.” he said sounding baffled that a door was behind them. Had they gone through it without realizing it? What was this? He half remembered his time in Alvadas and that brought him to the conclusion that this place was probably an illusion. What have they gotten themselves into?
The Alchemist proceeded to the door, and noted the knocker. He stood there and raised a finger to the others asking for their ears. If they would listen they could hear what Ray was hearing, muffled words, and hard to hear. The immortal found himself straining himself and his hearing to even hear what was being said. Not too unpleasant, but it sounded like someone was talking to themselves. Could this be the master that the ghost boy served so loyally? Could it be the man who made to doorway for them to even enter the ruin? Could it be the man manipulating this place, or had it, somehow, gone out of his control?
The nuit just stared at the door, eyes falling on the knocker in the center. Should they knock? ”Well,” the immortal began, ”this contraption is either haywire or its pointing us in the right direction.” he said, ”Though that much is obvious, the question is what to do now? I propose we knock.” he said, only trying to be polite. Perhaps whatever lied on the other side of this portal would appreciate the gesture even though it knows, assuming that it’s the young ghosts master, that they are already here in the ruin.
