Vengeance Chapter Five

Chapter Five

A Threadlike Bridge



Hawthorne slowly woke and felt a warmth beside him. He turned softly to find Nero huddled under one of his robes. The man suppressed an urge to caress the mass of cloth, when a pair of grey eyes opened from within the darkness and looked back at him.

Nero was silent as he gazed back at Hawthorne. Just minutes ago, he had been quietly reflecting on the current situation, and now the very subject of his thoughts was curiously regarding him. The only sounds that punctuated the dark were the timely drops of moisture from the ceiling splattering against the stone floor deeper in the tunnel, and Fuzuii writhing like a distressed snake in her sleep.

"How long have you been awake?" Nero questioned quietly, though his voice was still quietly thrown back by the walls.

"Not long, just a minute or so…" He looked away, and was thankful for the cool breeze and darkness concealing his burning cheeks.

"I'm pretty sure it's morning, then." Nero smiled. Hawthorne felt himself pulled slightly towards the man, as if drawn by an invisible thread.

"Ever feel like you've known someone for years, when you really haven't?" Hawthorne started to ask  quietly


"SINS!" Fuzuii screamed at the top of her lungs. Lucien, Talya, and Lyra were thrown into consciousness in an instant by the sound of her raucous voice reverberating off the tunnel walls. She jumped up and dug her claw-like fingernails into her meaty forearms.

Still clutching herself as if wrapped in an imaginary straight-jacket, the woman began swaying violently.
"THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS JUSTICE. Only the light of the power of the unsins of the Lord Alpharius will purify your darkened and closed hearts!!" The priestess proclaimed loudly, so the sinners could use her voice as a holy beacon and repent.

"What are you doing!?" Lyra stormed up to her.

"I am simply doing my holy duty, Miss Wretched Noblewomen. Would you rather your souls burn forever in eternal, charring fires…? I THINK NOT."

Lyra's left eye twitched violently, before it became shrouded in a deep red as blood vessels burst.

"Why is she with us?" Lucien questioned out loud.


"Because we all fell together and are stuck until we leave this tunnel." Talya pointedly replied.

"You unholy pagans will DIE in here…!" Fuzuii began violently bashing her staff against one of the supports holding the ground above them up.
The rotted amalgam of stone and wood started to crack under her brutal and savage blows.

Nero hurriedly turned to the others. "I think we might be near one of the exits." He gestured to an almost imperceptible shaft of light that dared pierce the inky darkness.

Chips of decayed stone flew outward from the groaning support as it slowly crumbled and dragged the ceiling above with it.

"And Lord Alpharius sanctified his creations, striking with a hammer of STONE." Fuzuii slammed the flat bottom of her staff into a growing fault line. Tiny vines spread from it, before falling deeper into the widening abyss. The tunnel groaned slightly before cracks appeared in the ceiling and upper walls; Sunlight streamed through.

Chunks of stone fell ungraciously around the group and into zealous, if slightly dusty, heaps. The hollows both behind and before them collapsed as the echoes of the fervent single priestess died. As the dust settled, the sun made it's presence known by appearing from behind dark clouds. Lucien looked balefully at Fuzuii. Talya looked at Fuzuii with a curious, but hidden sadness. Lyra glared at Talya. Hawthorne smirked. Nero assessed to see if Hawthorne was hurt, ignoring the fact that Fuzuii had a massive shard of rock piercing her torso.
"At least we made it out of the tunnel and can move on…" Talya optimistically stated.

"If only we could have been separated." Lyra spitefully dislodged a piece of rubble and kicked it towards her.

--
Florentina felt the warm, inviting rays of the sun warm her skin as she passed through the main gate into the city of Prylea. A cool, if slightly salt-laden from the bay below,  breeze tickled her cheeks and exposed arms as she smiled happily. Grand stone buildings faced her from either side of the main avenue into the capital city of the province.
The woman was walking past a bakery with a shattered front window, when she heard a pleasant voice call out: "In celebration of the victory our Lady Vergir led against the rising threat from the Enfera Peninsula and the pagans of Alpharion, the first person who I call out will receive a fresh loaf of bread made in their honour!! You…! In the dark garb of Perditia, yes you!"
The baker that was the source of the voice was pointing at Florentina, she noticed after several seconds.

After days of scrounging berries and scavenging eggs from nests, the smell of the bread was intoxicating to the Spymaster. Her mind wandered to faded memories of childhood, always helping her elder siblings and mother in the warm kitchen that somehow defied the biting winds of Keystone. Feelings of safety, warmth, and security resonated within her chest as Florentina approached the baker, smiling widely.

There was a moment of silence as Florentina thought of the words to express thanks in Pryleate. "Thank you."

"It is no trouble! All visitors to our wonderful capital of Prylea should be shown how welcoming a nation we are. Eventually, we hope that the whole of Racaela will be accepting of our light…" The baker gently handed her the basket containing the promised bread. As the commoner's hands brushed against her's, Florentina felt a strange inner warmth. It was as if the human contact she had been so long denied had awakened long buried feelings.

"My name is Bread the Baker! If you have any questions during your stay or just need a friend to talk to, you will be welcome at my bakery…!"

"Thank you." Florentina feigned another smile. "I'm sorry, but I should be on my way now." She then turned and promptly walked away from her new 'friend.' The idea was almost laughable to the woman. She was alone in the veritable snake-den. There were no allies; no one was coming to take her home. She would have to survive on her own merit, for the benefit of Perditia.

Florentina continued stalking through the main avenue of Prylea. As she did, she couldn't help but feel an ember of wonder and amazement at the beautiful stonework bordered by strong timbers. The craftsmanship would naturally astound anyone from the spartan and bare city of Perditia, where everything from the buildings to people were stripped of all that was necessary to function. Though the sun was always shining brightly, the surrounding Province of Keystone had always been a grim land, with an equally grim populace. As she came upon her target, the Tribune, Florentina was jolted from her bleak thoughts. This endeavor was nothing more than a means to the ends of Keystone becoming the dominant power  on the western side of the Great Barrier mountains. The woman spent not more than several seconds to note the ink stains blotting the statue of the first Administrator, before she passed through the central courtyard and into the main structure.

"Hello. I am here for the position." She cheerfully greeted a rather out-of-sorts man sitting  behind a hardwood desk.

"Ah. Very good." The creases of his military uniform were slightly crooked, Florentina's trained eyes took notice of. "I am Commander Alton Manere of Prylea."

"I am very pleased to meet you. Might I ask: Have any others applied for this venerable position?" She crooned.

"No. As you are the first and only, the position of Assistant to the Administrator Aleya will fall solely upon your shoulders…." Alton darkly, but kindly informed her.

"Very good!" Mild excitement flared in Florentina's grey eyes, before it was quashed.

"I will need your name though; as we shall be working together quite frequently…" His voice trailed off as he began to think.

The woman prepared to take a seat opposite the desk. In a moment, everything would change. Her identity as Florentina would be nonexistent. Her path in life would be cemented into place with the next sentence to flee from her lips. It would all fade to black under Keystone's crushing, if organized and benevolent, influence. As the Perditian settled into her chair and the folds of her dark uniform pooled around her feet, it became impossible to tell where the strange and imperceptibly moving ink-stains on the floor around her ended and the clothing began.
Florentina had disappeared.

"My name is Aislyn."


This was Aislyn.