“We tried for a Round before we commenced the meeting without them.” Inlim told her, while she noticed her sister was beginning to look sleep deprived.

Suenor would know, she was in a similar state. “So Hadthel Lothan, and Solthorn couldn’t be reached as well?” She asked the knowledge strengthen Fear more, but oddly it was being quiet, as well as Worry who scampered about around them. Never able to sit still and always rambling to itself. But that didn’t mean it wasn’t listening to their conversation with keen interest

“The Channels are connecting for Solthorn, it's just no one is answering. The other two, however, don’t seem to exist anymore, the Lowly operating them claim as much, and given their Cycles of experience we’re willing to take their word.” Inlim said correcting her thinking and feeding Fear more.

“A revolt?” Suenor asked openly without an intended target. A, once, rare lapse in her control as Surprise took hold. Her resolve had waned over the Arcs, the constant battle with Fear was wearing her thin. She wasn’t as sharp as she used to be.

“We held a council on the subject, and most from the other Sanctums conclude it may very well be what we’re dealing with." Inlim informed her, her sister voice hinted with Worry. Suenor didn’t hold that against her, three more Sanctums appearing to be in revolt, happening at the same time, or near enough, was nothing to be ignored. Especially since Suenor was confident in her knowledge that such a thing hadn’t happened since the time of Strife. When the kingdom had turned on itself and summoned the Nightmares with their Cursed acts.

“Has word been sent to those Above?” she asked, this wasn’t something that could be allowed to continue, the revolters would fortify their taken homes and spread the word of their success to others. They would try by any means to seed discontent and rebellious thoughts towards other Sanctums.

‘It’ll work too,’ Worry sent breaking its silence as it continued circling them. ‘Those of your ilk have made that certainly, the people are stressed, tired, and most of resentful. But no, don’t listen to Worry.’ The Curse mocked as it turned its blotted head to look at her. ‘Don’t listen to my words of wisdom, which told of this outcome, if you kept pushing.’

It turned from her, returned to its fretful walk. ‘Which you did, this Sanctum is ripe for revolt like all the others, the people are tired of your rule. Other me’s will be keeping the Houses informed, reviewing the situation they’re in, will be telling them in great detail how to plan and prepare against you.’ The Curse said heavy emphasizing the last word.

“After our last failure to contact them, we sent the knowledge up. They’ll request a second checking from us, giving its three revolting instead of one. But it’s clear that in short order the mute Sanctums will be dealt with, and the Lowly put back into their place.” Inlim spoke, the Worry once infesting her words gone for the moment.

She heard Fear let out a low chuckle, ‘Such confidence.’ It said nearing them, like Worry it had been listening in, but kept its distance for the most part.

‘And why wouldn’t she be Curse?’ Suenor sent to it, and readied her will for another fight against a foe that never tired.

‘It’s the assumption that the Sanctums not responding have rebelled,’ Fear offered and the words had Worry go still.

It turned to look at Fear, Worries many fingers played with its fat lip as it considered things. ‘You think? So soon?’ Worry asked its form moving again and its appendages twitched randomly.

‘With how many souls are flowing down, I’d say it’s rather late.’ Fear answered and Suenor had enough of their vague sending’s.

‘What are you two talking about?’ she questioned and stopped herself from turning her head to glare at them, it had been more difficult than it should have been.

Fear laughed again, this time marked with a cruel tone. ‘Really child? You hold the knowledge in you, it torments you every Rotation, and yet still you act blind, refuse to acknowledge the peril your in.’

‘Out with it!’ Suenor snapped back, causing Anger manifest for a Breath.

‘The Nightmare, blind child, it could be the cause for the Sanctums silence, perhaps they’re not there anymore?’ Fear taunted, and grew as the thought entered her mind. It made her remember the vision, of the Precursor feasting upon souls and growing from it. If such a Curse decided to go on the offensive for the younger Nightmares. Help breach the Wards so the Nightmare could spread.

‘No!’ Suenor turned from the vision and the thought, forced herself back to the moment with her sister. Fears laughter rang loud in her mind as she came to, and saw Inlim staring at her with practiced patience. It was a common thing to occur between them during such talks. Suenor could only keep herself from the Mark burned in to for so long.

Inlim smiled when she notice Suenor was aware of her again. It was a mixing of things, some happiness, with the hints of Worry, and Fear.

“Trying to get you to commit ill acts again?” Inlim asked, mainly so Suenor would focus on her voice.

“No,” she forced out, causing her to notice how out of breath she was, and that her vessel was shivering. The Cursed thoughts had done a great deal more harm to her than Suenor wanted to admit, even to herself.

“Cursed visions then?’ Inlim guessed, and Suenor nodded her head rather than speak.

“You going to tell me some of them? Even Cursed it may reveal their underlying intentions.” Her sister pressed and Suenor raised her head to look into Inlim eyes, it wasn’t a kind one she displayed to her once Acolyte. More than once during similar sessions, she’d wondered if her sister was trying to become Cursed. She was the only one foolish enough to come and check on her, the others had brighter minds. Knew to stay away and protect themselves from the Mark that wished to spread. But not Inlim, almost every Rotation she came to socialize with her. Check if she was still amongst those of this realm.

Sometimes Suenor wished she wasn’t, that the trial she was in would end and she could return to the Givers side. Freed from the Curses that tried to drag her down to their vile realms. Yet here she was, trying to remain herself, and accomplish the Task she'd been sent down to fulfill.

‘And your failing both’ Fear sent laugher joining its words. ‘You will continue to do so as well, these are times aligned with my nature, child. Its only natural to accept me, for I’m all around, the realm itself grows me.’ Fear said triumphantly, hands spread out and raised to those above.

‘You can, however, ignore this, hide from this truth.’ It continued as it circled her. “But that’s an ill on to itself, isn’t it child. One your kind falls into time after time, ignoring the troubles around you. Thinking that will keep it away, but that’s not how it works, most of the ills you ignore are made from outside sources. They won’t just disappear because you don’t acknowledge them.’

It sniffed the air, sighing fondly ‘Only grow till a Rotation will come where it will force you all to see. Which seems to be soon, given Sanctums are beginning to fall.’

‘You don’t know that,’ Suenor throw at it. ‘You say only what's convenient for you, anything that will make you grow more.’

A large splitting smile spread across its misshapen head. ‘And for now, the truth serves me, more than you know, so I have no need for lies to make you squirm, to make you align with my realm. This realm is doing it for me, child, so struggle all you want, in the end, I will have you.’

Suenor called upon the Givers Wrath and sent it hurling towards Fear. It howled in pain but stayed standing through the entire affair. Still, her Chant had withered it a decent amount, enough that after her song ended Fear remained silent, only sending her a mocking gaze.

“Suenor,” Inlim called and that brought her back to the material realm. “Even though it seems to be troubling you, I still want to know, what are the Curses telling you?” Her sister pressed again, to the discomfort of all around.

She and her sister sat a ways apart, separated by a wall of Enforcers, who were still displeased of the whole affair Inlim was demanding. And rightfully so, but it seemed Inlim had the backing of their sisters. So the Enforcers stilled their tongues and did as instructed, even if it was putting them all at risk.

Suenor stared into her sister eyes, tried to see if she was being influenced by one of the Curses herself. Inlim must have noticed, for the girl gave her a look of Pity.

“Is that it?” Suenor wondered out loud, “Is Pity influencing you sister? Asking that you indulge in this ill act?”

Inlim mask went blank, but the eyes flared, Anger was there, small, pathetically weak, but it was there where it shouldn’t be. It pained Suenor in a way, that her Acolyte had so poorly taken in her teachings, and that she’d allowed it.

“No, Suenor, it requests me to kill you,” Inlim spoke, the words empty of Curses. “Yet I refuse, for we already lost one of us and we’re all in agreement that a second is unacceptable. Not with how much needs to be done, and our Task not even near completion.”

Inlim leaned forward in her chair, the Anger in her eyes thickening. “Most of all sister, we wish to know what the Curses are up to. We need to know, our Task completion depends on it. And you, sister, well you're Marked, the Curses eager to claim you. Who better to give us the sight we need than Suenor one of the blessed ones to stand within the Givers presence.”

Inlim straightened in her chair, Anger simmering away till her eyes were empty of the Curse. All the while Suenor stared at her, at her once Acolyte and the other Voices letting Inlim speak on their behalf.

‘Look how they treat you,’ Anger whispered, its voice rough. ‘Use you for their own ends, even after you sacrificed yourself to look within the Curse Shards, so they would be spared. Look at the reward that bought.’

Anger pressed itself closer to her, ‘they use this to get dues from you.’ It sniffed the air “Yes, I smell Envy on her and many Others calling for her attention. She listening to some, Lust, that one whispers the most in her ear.’

Suenor began pushing it away, but Anger struggled and placed firm hands on her shoulders. ‘She desires you to turn.’ The statement had Suenor stop, allowing Anger to whisper more of itself into her mind. ‘The great Suenor Consumed, revealed to be a worthless Lowly in disguise. Your House would be quick to erase your name, all your achievements and strides for the Giver wiped away.’

“Suenor, answer me!” Inlim yelled out.

She found her vessel wasn’t shivering as much, Anger was working its way into her, providing her strength against Fear, at a cost. As long as she listened to it, and in turn fell more under its sway, became more aligned with it and its realms.

Suenor breathed in, then out and cooled the growing heat within her, pushing away Anger. It struggled, such was Angers way, always clawing at its foe, no matter the disadvantage in strength.

But the time she was done she was breathing heavy, but she was free from the haze Anger was placing her in. She looked up towards her sister, saw that her fight with the Curse must have been more displayed than she relieved. The Enforcers had closed ranks, and Inlim herself was already being willingly moved back.

“I am fine, I am well,” she said through tired breathing, the Enforces stances barely changed, her words held little Worth to them. Inlim, on the other hand, stopped retreating and moved her way back, but not as close as she had been before.

“As for your question Inlim, the Curses believe it’s the work of the Nightmare.” Suenor said, and Doubt was clearly displayed to her from all present, as they should, it was something only the Curses would accept so easily. The Wards would never fail them, the Sanctum, even from those Below were one of the Givers blessings. Knowledge passed down and put to use by the Enlightened. They would not fail, they could not.

Fear scoffed at her. ‘Diluted child, you’ll only be allowed to ignore this truth of mine for so long. There will come a Rotation where it will be at your Gates, whether you believe it or not, the realm continues on.’

The vision pulsed at her, beaconing her to look, but she kept her inner eyes turned from it as best she could.

“You mean the Curses tell you the Nightmare has broken through the Wards and claimed Sanctums?” Inlim questioned.

“Yes, that is the event they’re trying to claim is truth.’ She spoke fighting to keep her eyes open, the working of Anger had taken much from her. The loss of its strength heightened the feeling of weakness she was experiencing. Another trick of the Curse so it could keep hold of those following its words.

“Blessed Voice is it not clear her words are of little Worth, ones only meant to Mark us all.” One of the Enforcers near Inlim spoke, “You should not be here, let us perform our Task Voice, better one of us be inflicted with her lies than another one of your Title.”

Inlim glared at the Enforcer, but offered no words, instead, Inlim moved passed him growing closer to her. “This is about the Shard, the Precursor the vision displayed to you, Isn’t it?”

Suenor forced herself to straighten her back, a means to better stave off the fatigue trying to claim her. “It is, they whisper how with it at the head the Sanctums will be breached.”

“Is there a possibility of this sister?” Inlim asked and the discomfort for the Enforcers grew.

Suenor studied her once Acolyte, one far too careless, one that shouldn’t be inquiring about such things. “These are words from Curses sister, thinking ones, all offer nothing but lies to guide us away from the light of the Giver.” She recited, a knowledge she held close, a reminder to help her hold off the whispers that clawed at her mind.

“Lies they maybe Suenor, but they still need even a hint of merit to hold any sway.” Inlim commented, and it was one Suenor couldn’t refute.

“Fine then,” Suenor said. “There words hold some merit sister, the vision does show the Precursor devouring the souls of our ancestors, shows it growing in strength from it. And that vision is old now, Arcs enough in number, so if it were to move with the Nightmares, perhaps it could cause strain towards the Wards.”

She wanted to pull out her tongue and have a new one grown, for it felt defiled speaking such Curse lies with it.

Inlim didn’t mock the words, or declare, as she should, the utter nonsense of it, instead, she seemed to be reflecting on what was said, and it terrified Suenor. “They are Cursed words sister do not think on them so deeply.” She said, and to her embarrassment Worry leak out.

Inlim looked at her, not with Disgust, but with eyes of Relief, her gestures soften and the Calm mask fell for a parting moment to display Happiness. It was hidden again when she turned her head and called towards the gate. “See, does my sister not display she still fights them, is still herself even after Arcs of their whispers."

Suenor relieved now, that the gate hadn’t been fully closed. As it opened her eyes widened, three Inquisitors walked in, accompanied by Voices she didn’t recognize, and Enforcers of their own.

“Your words ring true Inlim, and so now does your council.” One of the Inquisitors spoke, nearing and studying her. Suenor wanted to hide, for she was not proper to be seen by them. At the very least her hair should have been done, and fresh clothes placed on her.

It was a trial in itself keeping her mask from warming as they looked her up and down, while she kept her gaze lowered to the floor. In different times she was higher in Worth than them, but now being Marked, such things didn’t matter. She was in their domain now, they would decide her fate no matter how high she’d once been.

“I admit, we expected her to be a sunken husk of flesh by now.” The same Inquisitor stated after he finished his observation, Pride stirred within her, but she kept it down, lest it tried filling her with pleasing lies.

“She has a bright Soul Inquisitor” Inlim stated, her head raised fully at the newcomers. “It was the reason she was chosen to look within the Curse shard we displayed to you early. We felt, of all of us she was the only one with the will to tell us before the Curses rendered her mute.”

“You all went along with this, evening knowing another of your Title could be taken?” The Inquisitors questioned and though his voice was even, it wasn’t hard to imagine the surprise in his tone.

“We were out of options, every Archivist of Worth had been claimed by it, and those that replaced them fared even worse. Their Souls glimmer too small for the Task, only one of us had the light needed to see into this dark.” Inlim said, displaying the thinking they used to come to their choice.

Suenor felt a traitorous part of herself wish she’d lied about her Worth. Wished she had instead tricked one of her sisters into taking up the burden. That way she would not be so exposed now, studied with cold eyes by Inquisitors. But only a small part of herself thought such, the rest of her was resolute. Even with the Curses whisper at her, she would finish her Task, would show the Giver she had been indeed worthy of being in her presence.

“Those Above are in agreement Voice,” The Inquisitor said, pulling his eyes from her. “We were sent to verify the knowledge passed from the Shard was genuine.” For a Breath his eyes glanced over to her, “From her display, it would appear it is, which means, you Voices will be receiving aid. As you hinted Inlim the Lowly have displayed one too many times of their uselessness, their Souls to meager for the Task presented. A display that's carried on for Arcs even with your Titles guidance.”

Inlim lowered her gaze. “The Lowly fail us at every turn Inquisitor, and the Nightmare has proven to be more than we originally excepted.”

“So I’ve heard” He commented “Is it true? Not one Mine has been claimed enough for goods to be sent to us.” The Inquisitor asked.

Inlim didn’t hide her embarrassment well, but that could be excused, it was a first for all of them to have failed so blatantly. “It's true, even after thousands sent, we still haven’t received a shipment. Plus the Shards from the Lowly are sporadic at best, and only last for a short time after their departure.”

“I see,” the Inquisitor said thoughtfully, “so the Shards were correct, the situation is Cursed. We have a great deal to discuss then to cleanse this slight. One being the Elders patience is nearly spent, the same for the goods those Above require.”

Suenor jaw tightened at the news and was aligned with Fear for a Breath. With their patience thinned they might tire of waiting, might take the burden upon themselves to reorder the Sanctums Below. Might send forth their own Flocks endowed with the most blessed of instruments to remove this failure. And as possible punishment, she and other Voices might find themselves forever Anointed to maintain the Sanctums. Disallowed the right to return to the Worthy Above.

“But before that,” the Inquisitor returned is piercing eyes back to her. “Suenor your dedication has been noted, and your willingness to Mark yourself for the Task completion has seen many cast blessings your way. Enough that you will be taken back to the realm Above and cleansed of this Mark that ails you.” Suenor was cut off guard, enough that her mask slipped and genuine shock was allowed to be seen.

“You’ve earned it Voice, many even in our number would have been hesitant to look within such a Shard without the needed precautions, which you had none of.”

Suenor Soul began to fill with Joy, Hope even appeared, one small that danced upon her shoulder.

‘No!’ howled the Curses and they charged her. But with renewed resolve, she hurled themselves away with a surge of searing Wrath.

She turned mocking eyes towards Fear, who slowly pushed itself up from the floor. Its flesh mended itself but not as quickly as before, and she saw with delight, it was shirking. It hissed as it glared at her.

“Do they bother you?” the Inquisitor asked, returning Suenor from her mind.

“Always Inquisitor, but this test of will has taught me much, and shown them I’m not one they can break.” Suenor spoke, mastering herself enough that her tone was neutral.

“Good, its only fitting that you achieve such, you were in the Givers presence. One such as yourself can’t be allowed to be Consumed.” The Inquisitor said and with the wave of his hand, his own Enforcers moved to surround her. She didn’t struggle as chains were clasped around her limbs, it was a blessed thing they did. Even if she somehow turned the Curses would find her vessel of no use to them.

“While she’s gone, you Inlim will be head of the Sanctum till she is sent back down.” He spoke, and Inlim bowed in thanks.

He returned his eyes back to her as his Enforcer continued in their task of wrapping her up tight enough she wouldn’t be a threat to anyone. “You all can clear out of the chamber now, we’ll have to place her vessel into a deep sleep before her ascent begins.”

None questioned and in short order, the chamber was left with only the Inquisitors people. After she was secured, with even a wrapping covering her mouth so she couldn’t speak Curses lies. The many around her began a Chorus and her vessel grew heavy. A Breath later she felt her vessel go limp and her own awareness cease.

------------------------

Orlone had expected Curses to go unnoticed, of those Anointed, once in charge of the Lower Sanctums, to ignore the worst of them. Such was his kinds most favored defense to avoid being Consumed. One though the most convenient, and easy to achieve, was a danger all on its own.

One displayed to him as he sifted through the old Shards complied by the now deceased Archivist Yordeen. It was remarkable how much she’d been able to see and still stave off the Curses. Given the number of Shards, she may have known more going on in the Soulless realm than all others Archivist put together.

Yet for all of that, most of her compiled Shards had been left in the dark, quickly forgotten for the Curses they carried. Even distilled they held many visions few would look upon. The Lowly not accustomed to the Task of peering into the dark would be Consumed after seeing a handful of these Shards.

For Yordeen, after seeing so many Cursed sights, wasn’t gentle with her passing of information. She often used sights straight from the visions to illustrate her point of the dire events happened outside their walls.

But Orlone was equipped and trained for this Task, those of his Title regularly looked into places the masses avoid. It was their Task to find and remove Consumed, how better than to know the Curses that made them tick. Or to watch their own Inquisitors, the ones too weak to maintain themselves, fall to the sway of Curses and become Consumed. But not he, Orlone and the few others of his Cycle had the Souls to hold back the Curses, as long as they remained vigilant.

It was a blessed thing their training killed the weakest, for his Task had become a heavy burden once he left the area of the Givers domain. It had been a first, and a non-requirement. But after this Task was done he’d make sure it was for future Inquisitors, after they completed their Cycles of training.

He’d thought himself forever protected from the tricks and schemes of the Curses, but no more. With the Givers Light gone he now found himself traveling the abyss itself. All of which was very enlightening, and displayed to him the once considered untouchable, weren’t so. Studying the Voice Suenor had seen to that revelation.

She’d been in the Givers central chamber, and though it was only a few Breaths, such an encounter had left a Blessed Mark on her Soul. And was likely the only reason she was still unconsumed by the time he and his brothers had arrived. But she was getting there, the signs were clear, her vessel tired and her resolve weakening.

A Gift from the Giver herself that they arrived when they did, word could never have been allowed to spread that a Voice, especially one who’d seen the Giver, had fallen to the Curses and been Consumed.

Every record of her existence would have been quickly erased, and the House she belonged, with a firm threatening of Marks and possible cleansing if said House didn’t cooperate. But that had been avoided, a blessing all around, for Orlone could see they already had enough burdens to care for.

For one of the late Archivist Shards had his eyes widen for a Breath when he delved within and saw the knowledge she displayed. The image of an Atlas had been shown to him, delicately carved out and marked clearly displaying the situation in a broad view.

The Settlements, a means the Lowly Sanctums used to get rid of even more Lowly people, had been wiped out. Even the largest, which could have been Sanctums themselves in a few more Cycles, hadn’t been spared. She had made this Shard over a Cycle ago, yet this was the first he’d found out about this event. In the Shard she displayed and monologued what was occurring below them. She used scenes directly from fouled Shards, and showed what the Soulless were up against. Showed how Settlements were being lost in quick order and the Swarm growing quickly from it.

The catalyst for the events to follow, where the Swarm turned its sights towards the Mines after all the Settlements had been consumed. A clear picture for all to see, if there had been anyone who’d dared to look.

It should have been the Anointed who’s Task fell within the scope of such. A portion of himself aligned with Shame for a Breath, when he remembered that all the Anointed of Tornnor had died to a yet unknown cause. It would have been enlightening to have talked with them. To have seen if they'd even been aware of the knowledge their late Archivist had tried to display to all needed.

The Late Yordeen had him now, and he would see to the knowledge she’d accumulated. Would make sure it was spread and her contributions recorded. It wouldn’t wipe away the stain of falling to the Curses. But it would put things into perspective and allow others to know how it had come to pass.

‘It must have been quite trifling dealing with those above her, uninterested in her warnings.’ Possibly one of many things that contributed to her fall. Before the swarm had appeared and begun consuming all it could grasp, Yordeen had been the longest-serving Archivist in record. By a large margin too, yet she fell like the rest even with Cycles of experience fighting the Curses.

It didn’t help she’d been sifting through curse visions every Round for Arcs. That, Orlone concluded was the real reason she finally turned. Even the brightest of lights will dim when continually under assault.

‘Such a waste,’ he thought, she would have been useful, a living record he could have called upon to answer his every whim. Unlike now where he was forced to sift through her collection of reports, which few had bothered to observe. Even the Voices hadn’t, they’d only focused on her most recent Shards, leaving the rest to be forgotten in the cramped chamber he now resided in. A chamber most avoided, marked as a reliquary of Cursed items. It showed a picture, this chamber, for half of it was filled with Yordeen Shards. A telling thing that, displayed the times they were in now, a Curse time, one few were noticing.

“I knew you’d be here,” His blood brother Hallarn said as the chamber gate was opened by the guarding Enforcers.

“No better place,” he remarked, only glancing at his brother before returning his sight to the mound of Shards he’d piled onto of a plain table.

“Quite a collection,” Hallarn remarked to himself as he came to Orlone side looking at the Shards. “If they're all Cursed then I'd say it’s almost a quarter of our own stored Shards.”

“There are Cursed, even though compiled, the late Archivist had a habit of showing the original scene to add weight to her views.” He commented, “Plus more than half of what you see here is recent, a telling thing, isn’t it brother? Of the times we find ourselves?”

A small mark of surprise marred Hallarn before it waned. “A clear display as to why the late Archivist turned, a blessing she lasted so long, she would have made for a candidate if she hadn’t been so Lowly.”

Orlone nodded in agreement, as he organized Shards together so that his fellow Inquisitors would see the picture he’d gleaned. With the visions gained from the Voice Suenor, Orlone had been shown his people were going to be entering the darkest time, one that might consume most of them. The Lowly for sure, as they were Consumed even in bright Intervals.

“It must be truly cursed for you to be so lost in your thoughts brother.” Hallarn spoke gaining his attention.

It earned another nodded from him, “It is, maybe the worst?” That got his brother to raise a brow. “The Nightmare was growing to unprecedented heights before the Crown of the realm broke, and the Souls of the past came streaming down unhindered. After that Hallarn, their growth began to triple, the size of all of them has increased equally.”

Hallarn had gone still, falling into his own thoughts. When he returned from it, his brother gave the Shards before him an attentive look. “And the knowledge that let you come to this conclusion, was just sitting here? Forgotten?”

He gave his brother a fitting smile, “these are Cursed Shards brother, darker than those of the past. It's only to be expected those not of our order to hide them away. To make sure what lies within stays distant from the masses who would turn swiftly if they look upon such sights.”

His brother forgot at times, taking for granted his upbringing that allowed him to hold off against the images the Curses would send. Even one of the Shards in front of them could cause panic if the masses were to be forced to see the visions.

Orlone had found Peace in that fact, understood the need for such sights to be sequestered off. His brother didn’t, or hadn’t come to accept this arrangement. He found it to be weakening them, allowing the Lowly to live. To him, if they didn’t have the will to accept the truths of the realm they should be allowed to be Consumed and then killed. Forgetting the Lowly didn’t need such strength, they were only to serve their betters, nothing more.

“A blessing you found this collection.” His brother spoke after glimpsing within some of the Shards he’d organized.

“A blessing indeed, makes me wonder how many more are out there, forgotten in a small dark chamber.” He mused while placing the observed Shards in containers his Enforcers had carried for him.

“More than should be allowed,” his bother spoke also helping in the task. “You accept the words of the Voice then, the Nightmare is now consuming the souls of the dead?”

Orlone stopped what he was doing and gazed into his brother's eyes. “Yes brother, these are dark times, perhaps the darkest it will ever be.” He looked back to his task “Considering what it means for the souls traveling down the depths.”

“That is one truth that might never be shown to the other Titles, the Giver will know, and those of her inner circle. But the majority will have to remain blind.” Hallarn forced out, the conclusion not aligned with his views, but even he understood the danger.

Many already held mistrust towards those of their Title, and considered most of his order Consumed, Curses macerating around protected by the lie of a Worthy Task. But such rumors were passed around by those with influence. Those who didn't agree the Inquisitors should have the ability to put down all, regardless of Worth.

Those same people would rush to increase the intensity of said rumors, if Inquisitors began speaking such a truth to the fragile masses. The Lights within too small and flimsy to accept so a horrible fact.

“I wonder how long this blindness will last brother?” Orlone spoke once the containers were full. “The Crown has cracked its entire length, and breaking more with each passing Rotation. All of it traveling downwards, straight into the Nightmare maw.”

Another secret was the Giver herself was unable to fix it, even after the Ancestors themselves requested it, and offered to her continually. It was too much, even for her. What repairs she completed, broke anew within a Tempo.

His brother let out one of his sighs, an empty tone with no Annoyance in it. But one that could, if he wasn’t so centered and in control of such entities. “I can envision a great deal of denial at first, but once the signs started to show, Panic will spread like Stoneroot. Fear and Worry will spin their tales, making things worse, Anger might get involved, or Vail turning towards it on their own to stave off Fear.”

The sigh came out again, his brother view that the Lowly should undergo stern training, as they had, was being reinforced by the vision he was picturing. One that failed to understand the time and cost such an endeavor would take, or that most involved would end up consumed. Which considering the Lowly were to serve, wasn’t ideal.

“Quite dire the outcome you speak brother,” Orlone spoke as Hallarn listed off more ill outcomes. “I guess we'll have to send word to our fellows above to ready their statements of Blessing, if events go as you envision, it will be needed.”

That got Hallarn to quiet, it was their Titles greatest weapon in times of Strife, one the people fell for every time. Because no matter how much the lies go against the truth. If there pleasant to hear, and display a calm explanation for events. The masses always accept them, even defend them, if some stronger willed start to question such rumors. Order would return for a time, till Wards began to send their alarms.

Hallarn leaned his back against the table, staring at nothing in participle as he delved into his thought. A common trait all of his order held, either born with it, or a habit that came about after endless Rounds of forced contemplation.

“The Flocks have to be halted.” His brother stated and Orlone gave a pleased smile, he too had come to the same conclusion not long after all facts had presented themselves. With the Nightmare growing in continual strength and the Lowly not, sending them out only worsened the Vails position.

“The Elder won't take that well, might even fall to the sway of Anger for short while,” Orlone spoke, but it won’t just be them, most on High would. Their events of pleasures would be slowed, and eventually halted due to the lack of goods. A blessed thing, for all were going to be needed to push the growing Nightmare back rather than scores being lost in completive games.

“I’ll send word to the Voices to stop their construction of Flocks.” His brother said pushing from the table.

Orlone bowed his head and spread his arms in a marked moment of thanks, “Quite Kind of you brother.”

Hallarn shrugged, “A reward for finding all this, and dedicating so much of your time following this lead,” Hallow laughter followed in the wake of that. “Falsis will have to fight off Embarrassment when he learns his opening assessment was completely wrong.

Orlone had to fight off a Joy-filled smile from marring his mask at the mention of that. But only for a moment, before it passed and he was left with the understanding that it would have been better if he’d been the one wrong. Instead of the Vail now faced with a Nightmare feeding on their Souls.

‘How many will be lost?’ Orlone wondered once more.

‘That is the wrong question child.’ A new entity said to him, one cloaked and with the features of a dried husk. ‘It should be, how long are you all going to last?’

A flex of his will and the entity was shattered in less than a Breath, so quickly removed his brother hadn’t even noticed his moment’s lapse of their conversation.

“If we can’t get hold of the unresponsive Sanctums, I’ll send some of our Enforcers to take a look, verify if our suspicions are correct.” His brother said as he turned it look at him

“What about those that can’t even be found in the Channel?” Orlone asked.

“Enforcers will be sent that way as well, but they’ll have the instruction to mostly secure the Roads. Those Sanctums are far Below, if the Nightmare is attacking, might have the means to breach the Wards. Those would be the first to fall.” His brother answered, and the two of them fell into silence, once more contemplating the situation their kind was in.

“I’ll be off, best we get this Task started so we have a clear account of the events transpiring for those Above to see and understand.” Hallarn said with a parting nod, one Orlone returned but didn’t make a move to leave.

No, he was in his mind thinking, wondering. The Sanctums that didn’t answer held his attention, if they were under attack the Voices within would try to send word. Request aid from those Above and those of their fellow Title running nearby Sanctums. They wouldn’t cut themselves off, and act like some rebel group.

Perhaps if it was only one acting in such a manner he would be willing to follow that trail of thought. But it was multiple, and from those further up the realm, not near the Nightmares line at the moment.

Such places should be fine, should be answering their calls, and being made ready to become the front line to repel the Nightmare. Instead silence, and not even a well-hidden one, even rebels would have maintained contact, played an act that all was well, and the Voices were still in charge handling matters.

Orlone manifested a visual Atlas of the network in his mind. The ones that didn’t answer were close together, and heading up, while further below there were the Sanctums which could no longer be found. Both were increasing in number, and for the most part his people didn’t even notice this change. Even the Voices hadn’t been handling the event as they should.

The moment one Sanctum had stopped responding they should have hastily sent word to those Above. Instead, they became increasingly desperate with completing their Tasks. Tasks that had no meaning anymore, those Above would soon be geared towards battle, the time of their mindless pleasures was at an end. The Nightmare could no longer be ignored, not with the knowledge the Voices had passed to them.

He recalled the Voice Suenor words, her telling of a Nightmare, a Precursor devouring the flow of souls. Described that she was seeing it physically grow from the act. Yordeen Shards had showed the same in an indirect manner. All were growing, Orlone was aware enough to know the Flocks would be a contributor as well.

Yet could others of its kind also being doing the same? Be feeding off the Souls entirely rather than the corpses of his people. Perhaps the Precursor, the Nightmares origins, was just an Ancient. One which had been gorging itself on the Souls the moment they began flowing down.

That last thought gave him pause, and from the corner of his eyes, he saw the entity reappear. It stood there watching him, it arms wrapped around itself, as if trying to keep itself warm. It stared at him, and when he readied another bundle of will to remove it, the thing only cocked its head. Not one plea left it as his will struck, clearing his mind of the intruder.

A Breath later, it returned, standing in the same spot, hands around itself.

‘If there’s one, might there be many?’ The entity said in a dead and exhausted tone. ‘That thought is what maintains me now child, strike me down as many times as you wish. That question will keep bringing me back faster than all the others that swarm within you.’

Even alone he didn’t allow a frown to mar him, such would lead to ill habits and a weakening of his revolve. Instead, he studied the entity before him with the same clear state he’d been trained to enter the moment his training had begun.

It was an odd thing, hidden behind its cloak, different from the other entity’s who enjoyed showing themselves, using their twisted forms to aid in unsettling already struggling wills. But not this one, what small amount of flesh he saw was the kind that wouldn’t aid it displaying its superiority. It was a dead thing, clinging to a last moment of life.

‘It’s a rare occurrence that I’m allowed to be, Fear normally takes my place as outcomes favor him. But not this time, for a select few have gone beyond his realm, seen Fear doesn’t fit and like you found mine.’ The entity said, exhausted from the act.

‘Then who are you, oh thing of such rarity.’ Orlone sent, preparing himself for the reveal and the endless lies about how it would save him, for a price.

‘Despair’ it said, and nothing else.