It was an act of will for Orlone not to exhale out Relief when they passed into realm shrouded in the Givers light. The pressure on his shoulders, the feeling of loss that once followed him, gone. Replaced with energy and strength to hold back the work of Curses with absolute certainty, none of Doubts clouding thoughts to cling to him. All had been removed or diminished enough only the weakest of Souls were vulnerable.

The Enforcers lacked his training, so across the length of the Flock which guided him. Sounds of Relief filled the air and displayed to Orlone the quality of the Souls in his service. Orlone saw the slightest twitch on his brother lips. Hallarn standards were high and he expected them to be reached. Forgetting that the masses, even those of their Guards, didn’t have the fortitude nor drive to be as committed to remaining centered as the order of Iniquitous decreed.

It would be a blessed thing if the masses were, that he and those of his order didn’t have to spend so much of their time, searching and removing Consumed. That they could instead search or develop better means to safeguard the Souls of the Vail from outside influences. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the case, and with the knowledge he’d taken in from Cycles of his Task, likely never would.

The masses were called Lowly for reason after all. The light of their Souls such they wouldn’t, or perhaps couldn’t master themselves and hold off the effects of things that conspired vile deeds and Cursed outcomes.

Orlone, his mind focused on the matters of Lowly, made a sign to the Giver, an offering of thanks. His time outside the sphere of her protection had been a great revealing of matters. He'd been blind to how much the Giver aided them. His journey down to the depths Below had shown clear why it was in such a state.

Orlone, though he’d never forget nor forgive the Lowly for their weakness. Now understood the trial they were up against every Rotation. Forced to face off against Curses without the Givers help. But such was the price of being Lowly, Unworthy, the Giver saw fit not to send her light to guide them, so they must, in turn, stumble in the darkness. Doing their best to serve those on High, him and those of his ilk who were within the Givers grace.

‘How long will that be?’ the cursed thing calling itself Despair sent. Orlone mask remained unchanged, no outward display of emotion was shown, but within his mind, Orlone felt the beginnings of Annoyance. It would never become that, but the essence of it was there.

There were other forms ready to take shape if he stopped his vigilance. Gratitude for one, oddly aimed at Despair. For though the thing was something which should not be, and he would find a means to remove it eventually. That didn’t mean it wasn’t aiding him. Its presence, its cutting questions, were all a great testing of his resolve, a constant struggle to remain himself completely. In it, even as the thing tried to sway him, it was in the end only making him stronger, better able to fight off an entity such as it.

‘I’m not trying to sway or turn you child, there is no need for that. I wouldn’t be here if there wasn’t already apart of you aligned to me. No, diluted one, I’m only bringing forth the questions you yourself already hold, questions you’re trying to avoid.’ Despair sent and breathed heavy after as the exertion took its toil.

Though the Cursed things wasn’t gone, that didn’t mean the Givers radiance wasn’t affecting it. For one the thing hovered in the air and was the size of Newborn now. Its many hands wrapped the cloak it wore tight around it. As if the light from the Giver was a fringed wind trying to freeze the thing.

It displayed a great deal about the entity of Despair, one that, regardless of its appearance, was something not to be taken lightly. It had the strength to remain even in the Givers presence, even though he wasn’t feeding it.

‘But you are,’ Despair crocked out, shifting itself as if to pull deeper into its cloak. ‘Though you ignore it, the questions remain, and the inner you, the one that's always thinking always wondering. Looks upon them considering possibilities and from it summons me. I’m here child, because you align with me, you’ve entered my realm, and no amount of this Givers aid will remove you from it. Not till the questions are answered in a way that relieves you of me.’

Orlone didn’t bother to ask what questions it spoke of. He wasn’t a Lowly that blinded itself entirely from their own thoughts. The questions regarding the Nightmare, their strength, and the wonder of what the Souls flowing down into the depths were doing to its growth.

Those thoughts were always at the back of his mind now. So much so, that when he found the answers he might even allow a small moment of Joy to take him. But such an event was far from his current now. He was trapped with the Task of guiding the Voice back to the Giver and so was unable to spend the time as he should searching for answers.

In a low moment, as the urge to find the truth pressed against him, he’d turn to Despair for some distorted wisdom. His effort for lowering himself to such was rewarded with refusal by the Cursed thing. Claiming that it didn’t know for sure itself, a rare event for him to experience. Curses normally put on the show of acting as if they had all the answers. But Despair was an odd one when it came to its ilk, acted not as it should.

Orlone was forced to suffer the testing of patients for now, till the Voice was taken from him. There was another urge, a longing, Lust trying to form from the thought of freedom. Able once more to delve into his own Tasks and matters, which the Vail as a whole shied away from. Orlone crushed the pieces forming and re-scattered them into dust which dissipated into nothingness.

Though after he continued down the lines of thought which formed them. It was dark times, the darkest, he was sure of, answers had to be found, knowledge gleaned and the full extent of what they were about to face needed to be displayed. Orlone would do everything in his power to accomplish such, even with Despair trying to distort his view.

‘I do nothing of the sort,’ Despair coughed out, but nothing more. It instead balled itself up tight in the tattered cloak and followed lazily along. The form of it shrinking the deeper they traveled up towards the Giver.

Part of Joy and Disappointment were there to form, but he kept them from being. Joy for he would eventually be freed of the presence that was Despair and Disappointment for the loss of testing. Still, it changed nothing whether it was around or not, Orlone would find his answers, would ready his order and the rest of the Vail if possible.

He would likely be forced to take whatever findings he was able to collect to those who received such matters for the Giver. Her Senses, he would prefer the Giver herself, but he was not worthy of such. His deeds and contribution were things that couldn’t be revealed to the masses. His worth had to be hidden, least weak Souls wither at the sight of things most Cursed.

“It’s been some time since I’ve seen you so deep in your mind Orlone." Hallarn spoke near his ear gaining his attention. His brother hadn’t been wrong, as the interruption had his vessel wanting to jerk from the sudden noise.

“There is much to contemplate on during these bleak times.” Orlone commented as his awareness returned to the hall around them. A proper Road, the Wards back to the standard he was accustomed to. Rather than those of Below.

To those of the Lowly it must seem like the Vails best, but he knew better. Could tell with the swiftest of glances how rushed their construction had been, and what little time the Crafters had been allowed to perform their task. There was an urge to see it as another reminder of the Lowly place, of why they were called such. But his Hearts of knowledge let him see beyond that first look. Let him know it was the act of necessity, rather than poor craftsmanship. The Nightmare came from Below, those near the depths were the first to feel the Nightmares destruction.

To fight off a foe that would never truly die, it would always regrow and regroup even after the worst losses inflicted upon it.

“Indeed, there is a hoard to look and consider, but not so much that it should blind you to the realm brother, something is trying to move you from center.” Hallarn spoke softly in his ear. From another of his order, it would have been a challenge, a wondering of his resolve. But from Hallarn it was simply his desire to keep Orlone balanced. They had been together a long time, remained themselves while others of their batch fell to Curses or their own selfish wants.

Orlone halted for a Breath at speaking his mind, training, and Cycles of careful actions holding him from speaking truths that may cause more harm than any perceived benefit. It was hard not to glance at the thing called Despair, that he might spread it to another, to Hallarn if he shared his knowledge and thoughts.

His blood brother was staring at him now, he’d been quiet rather than open. Held close knowledge when he should be instead sharing it with one of his order. He’d not done that to Hallarn before, even though it was a cursed habit he’d come to develop.

He’d spent too much time working on his own, bearing the burdens by himself. More inclined to hoarding his information rather than sharing it. Even if it was for others protection, it was a short-lived one now, especially with the questions which pressed against him. Questions which needed to be answered, and were ones others of his order would stumble upon eventually once the information he knew already was spread up to the realm Above.

So Orlone looked at his brother, whose eyes were studying him, and had the forming of something that could resemble Worry, one that slipped away when their eyes met.

“Questions brother.” Orlone finally spoke, whispering in Hallarn ear, “possibilities that at the moment I have no means to answer, at least not in confidence.”

“You will share them with me.” His brother stated, no notion of the declaration being ignored or pushed off to the later time. Orlone heard the hardness in his brother's voice, the training he offered to in a way that resembled reverence to the Giver.

“It may come with an entity.” Orlone admitted, speaking as softly as he could, yet his brother's ear stiffened as if he’d yelled into it.

“You speak this now?” Hallarn raised, a question and criticism, disapproval in his handling of Cursed matters. It had been Cycles since he’d heard such a tone pointed at him from his brother. Then again it had been just as long since he’d dealt with an entity he couldn’t remove on his own. One that he was apparently feeding, or some part of him was, something deep, something eluding him.

“It is a new thing brother, I confess I have been using it as a means of testing and study.” Orlone spoke, the words diminished the harshness in his brother's eyes. Hallarn favored testing thought it something all should do regularly. The only means to maintain the strength needed to keep one prepared to hold on to their center. To stay themselves even when entities both varied and large struck with the intent to turn a vessel.

“Truly new?” His brother asked, for such a thing would be rare indeed. It was a common belief for most Inquisitors that the halls of records held all knowledge worth knowing. For it to be otherwise, for there to be something outside of it, well there would one, or multiple heated debates over this debacle.

“It is for me brother,’ Orlone said quietly. “It’s a relative to Fear that much I can tell, the shape of it is similar. But this entity, this thing calling itself Despair offers no words of wanting. Doesn’t speak how it can save you, if you give in and listen to it.”

Hallarn stance, one ready to deal with a cursed problem, diminished slightly at the words. “That is odd,” his brother confessed, eyes searching his. “Then what does it say?”

“Not much in truth, most of the time this entity is content with simply hovering around me. Watching the realm itself, rather than any showing or want of my vessel. The times it does speak it’s more to ridicule me for being blind, and not focusing on the questions that maintain it.” Orlone said, his eyes swiftly glancing at those around them. Looking for signs of Enforcers trying to listen in on their conversation.

“It admitted what maintains it?” Hallarn questioned his interest increasing, for such was the opposite of others. True it was easy to glean what was the source most of the time, but the entity would never themselves point it out. They knew, the cursed things that they are, of the consequences of that. How a Soul would strive to remove the source.

“It is an honest Curse brother.” Orlone said, something he would have never conceived let alone spoke an Arc before. But Despair for all the troubles it existence brought, wasn’t one for lies. More than once Orlone fathomed that perhaps the being found the concept to much a burden to bother with.

“It speaks plainly of matters that revolve around it, not hiding behind lies and fantasy of grandeur. Unlike Fear that we know uses both to its benefit. Oddly enough Despair seems to be perhaps Fear if it knew and accepted there is a final moment coming and nothing can be done to prevent it.”

“Fascinating,” his brother said, leaning as close as he could. “Then tell me these questions that maintain it, so I can be tested and learn to remove such a rare entity.”

Others of his order would have been more cautious, waited till they were in Warded rooms so the risk of spreading was contained. Not Hallarn, he saw the challenge of maintaining himself without safeguards as a boon. An encouraging act for him to fight harder, lest he fail and curse others in the process.

“As you decree brother,” Orlone said. “The first is about the Precursor the Voice spoke of."

"What if it’s not that? What if it was just an Ancient, maybe even a small Nightmare, but became so larger because it consumed the Souls of our people?” His brother took the question in with unwavering stride, but Orlone noticed the small flexing of muscles in his jaw and ears. It was a dangerous question, one he offered he’d find the answer to.

“The next, if the previous holds true where mere Nightmare can grow to such scale. Is how many are out there now in the depths? Growing ever larger, feeding off the Flow of Souls, gaining the strength needed to assault Sanctums and finally have the means to succeed.”

There was a sensation near Joy, one trying to come about from the act of sharing this burden with someone, to have someone to talk to and wonder with. But already Orlone could see the price of that, his brother attention on him was almost entirely gone. Like himself, Hallarn was looking inward, studying and considering the questions with the limited knowledge he had on the subject.

‘If’s, all these if’s,’ Despair mumbled to him, its voice laden with shivering cold. “There are no ifs deep down in you, you know the answers to these questions, you just don’t agree with them. So off you go searching for any means to counter them. Trying to delude yourself from the fact you already understand. The Nightmare is growing, has been, and now has the means to threaten you, even within your hallowed halls.’

‘Such testing you provide me,’ Orlone sent to it, following his training, and Cycles of experience to look at the knowledge passed to him by the Curse. Those not of his order would have discarded its words with utmost urgency. Cleansing themselves of it or in a way form Fear as they wondered how the words would turn them.

But not Orlone, he studied what was passed in an attempt to see what little truth he could. For no matter Despair odd behavior it was and always will be a Curse. Its very nature was to turn him from the Giver and her light, sow seeds which would have him stare into the dark so it or something else could claim him for themselves.

Though Despair wasn’t wrong in the fact that he was searching for proof. Evidence to answer the questions rather than his own guidance and council. Those on High would demand more than his own words. They would want absolute proof, a showing they wouldn’t be able to refute no matter how disinclined they were to accept the situation showed to them.

Anything else, and Orlone would be wasting his time. Even causing harm as he added more weight to those against his order. Houses would use it as a means to claim the Inquisitors were trying to spread Curses, trying to get all Consumed as much as they were. That he and his fellows were in truth working for the Nightmare, it’s not so secret agents to get the Vail to fall from the inside.

He and others had heard it before, though not spoken out loud publicly. Rather in hidden chambers or quiet conversation, when people thought they were in private. Unknowing of the many old and hidden passages his order listened behind. Most Houses within the Sanctums Above were against his order, the working of Curses themselves. Fear the most, but Worry had its parts to play. Got the Souls they had influence over to move against those whose sole Task was their removal.

Those Curses would be swift to act if he failed in his task, failed to find enough evidence to answer the question, enough that not even a shed of Doubt could form.

“These are dark questions brother,” Hallarn said after Sequences of contemplations. “Wise of you to keep them to yourself for so long. If dangerous in its own right.” His brother returned to glancing at him as they walked, the hardness gone. “If the answers to those question points in the manner you’re leaning towards, it will have many of us in a frenzy.”

“I’m aware Hallarn,” Orlone spoke as he pulled himself from the quiet realm of his mind. “I’ve spent most of my time considering where to go to find answers, that perhaps somewhere in our most sequestered chambers something of worth might be found.”

“You’ll have to reach out that’s for sure,” Hallarn added. “Something of this nature would have been stumbled upon if records were held in one of our secs Above.”

Orlone was aware of that troubling fact, as he himself, consider the amount of time he spent wandering the halls searching for material to study, would have found something. But there was always a chance he’d somehow missed the trail, or that it was only found in an off branch in a less sharing Sanctum. Regardless he would conduct a thorough search before broadening his view. Begin sifting through shards forgotten by the Lowly from the Sanctums below. His vessel almost earned to begin the Task now, but alas Orlone was forced to suppress it. He was already tied down by the need for the Voice to be cleaned of the Mark burnt into her Soul.

Though it wasn’t all a waste of his time. Orlone was looking forward to gazing within the Shard that placed the Voice in such a state. For at the moment it was the only piece of knowledge that aligned with the answer he suspected for the questions.

But the Elders, and the Ancestors would demand more, or come to the same conclusion as the Voice had. Claim it to be the originator of the Nightmare, one above all others, a single threat, rather than a numerous one.

‘For all your faults child, I like you. You, unlike the others hiding from me till the last moment, look at me in full.’ Despair sent to him, one that held the feeling of genuine thanks in it. ‘Try to understand and come to terms with the situation I represent. Lessers would turn their eyes from me, for they find my sight a slight against all, an impossibility to their fragile minds. But you, even though it wavers at times, look at me so piercingly.’

‘Enough of your flowered words,’ Orlone sent back to it, he’d been in similar situations before. Fear and Worry came in many forms. Some tried to get close by acting in the Souls benefit, claiming they offered only wisdom to one they wish to save.

‘Oh child, there isn’t going to be any saving coming from me. If that was even a possibility I wouldn’t be here.’ Despair sent trying to pull its cloak tighter around itself. ‘You know what is coming, know there is no Hope.’

“It seems you’ve been given a blessing brother,” Hallarn said breaking the silence reigned between the two of them.

Orlone forced himself to glance at his brother, removing his sight from the Curse that was becoming more talkative, and burdening. “How so?”

“We’ll be visiting a few Sanctums on our way back to Sanctuary, perhaps the Giver will be with us and we’ll stumbled upon a lead for the answers we seek.”

Orlone nodded “A blessing, let us offer that it’s a grand one.” There was a chance, their route was taking them through Gooth, Tainnar, and Luvoren. The last had a large section of his order, with an adequately filled reliquary. It would be a blessed place to start searching before returning to their main House in Sanctuary.

If not then it wouldn’t be long before Orlone found himself going on a Task of his own, heading down to the depths to find lost knowledge left in Marked chambers. Orlone offered it wouldn’t come to that, the search would be a long one, and given the nature of the questions he was trying to answer. He may not have the time. If what he believed to be true was shown to be the reality.

The thought weighed on him during their march towards the first Sanctum. A burden which grew with each passing Rotation. Orlone felt the making of Relief stir in him when the gate to Gooth entered his sight. One that dispersed when he noticed the path was blocked. The elaborate tents and Wardless housing that once flacked its side and carried on down the passage were also all gone.

The gate remained closed even when they neared, something Orlone had never seen happen before. There was someone watching through the gate, or supposed to. The Chanter tasked with such should have seen the symbol on the banner an Enforcer carried. Seen and opened the gate for them without a need for them to wait. Instead, their march came to a halt, and for a Breath were forced to wait before a side gate was open and an Enforcer of Gooth stepped out.

One of Orlone own Enforcers went to talk with the new arrival, but Orlone found his leg carrying him forward as well. Hallarn doing the same, as they walked side by side. Their title would get them almost anywhere, or at the very least answers, where others would only get stone silence.

The Enforcer of Gooth lowered his head to them as they approached. Arms spread in a mix of assurance nothing Cursed was being planned, and apologies for the event around them. A lesser Vail not with Orlone trainer. Such as those of the many Higher born Houses, would have listened to Anger at this point. Begun causing a fuse or harm to those lower than them for the delay. But Orlone wasn’t ruled by such entities, his mind serene his vessel calm and centered.

Though there was a spark in him, one trying to take shape, a feeling of Excitement, something was happening, and Orlone offered again to the Giver that whatever it was aligned with the answers he sought.

“Blessings wash over you oh removers of Curses, searchers of the Consumed.” The Enforcer spoke to them, his voice, even sublet as it was, had mixings of Fear in it.

But such was the way of things, all that was transpiring was outside what should be. Orlone accepted the display of failure, for it was a common thing for those not trained properly to hold off the Curses.

“Apologies and blessings the Giver speed your journey along after this delay.” The Enforcer brattled on.

“And we accept what is offered,” Hallarn spoke. His voice devoid of the Curses, even though Orlone was sure inside his brother was feeling some forms of Annoyance at the showing of Fear. “Now then tell us, what is the meaning of this delay? Why is the gate closed to Gooth?” Hallarn pressed.

The Enforcer fell into a half bowed stance. “Apologies again Inquisitors, I have no answers of worth to give. Orders were sent down by the Anointed, all the gates were to be closed and remain such no matter who approached. They will only be opened once words have been sent to the Anointed, and they in turn, decide if the travelers will be let in.”

Orlone looked at Hallarn, and they shared a knowing glance. That was the same order and advice they’d told their Enforcers to send down to the Sanctums Below. An extra measure of protection during unsure times. ‘More unsure now’ Orlone concluded as their advice was now being used by the Sanctums Above.

“Then has word been sent?” Orlone asked.

"Yes blessed seeker,” The Enforcer said quickly. “It shouldn’t be too long, the Messenger carried your symbol with him, none will be slow in their task.”

Orlone and his brother turned from the Enforcer heading back into the throngs of their Host. Orlone spent the moment as they walked to fortifying his centering, aspects of Curses were trying to form. New questions aiding in their formation, Despair one of them. Though it wasn’t much Orlone could see it had gotten larger, nor was it pulling at its cloak as much.

“Perhaps we offered to strongly to the Giver,” Hallarn spoke as they neared the carriage holding the marked Voice.

“Or perhaps she is just as wanting in these questions to be answered?” Orlone speculated, regardless they would know soon enough, and even after what his brother said. Orlone offered again to the Giver, offering that the events taking place were aligned with the task he sought to begin.

“Now that would be a true showing of the situation we’re in brother, if the Giver gets involved personally. I don’t think you'll have much trouble getting the untrained to cooperate.” Hallarn said, sounding to Orlone ears almost happily.

“We should offer for such an event to transpire.” Orlone said as he opened the carriage gate and he and his brother stepped into the small observation room. Both of them made sure the gate outside was sealed before they opened the next one. Where they enter the carriage proper and looked upon the Voice sleeping form.

Suenor looked spent, her vessel a withered shell, so thin it looked more skin and bone than anything else. Lowly saw to it she was feed every three rounds, but they were light means of soups and syrups.

Such was the consequence of keeping her asleep. For Orlone wouldn’t risk her being awake on his watch. Suenor had been near her end by the time they arrived. So to make sure she lasted the journey, comatose she'd been made and remained till she was taken by the Senses and guided to the Giver.

“The sight of her makes fragments of Disgust form brother. If there was any true centering being down in the realms,” Hallarn pointed a finger at the sleeping Voice. “This would never have come to be. We should put her down and have her record cleansed from existence.”

Hallarn said something similar almost every time they came to check on the sleeping form. The sight of her was uninspiring that was true, but she had been through much. Looked into the places she'd never been trained to gaze into.

“I don’t completely disagree with your brother, she is a slight to the Giver for the way she has fallen. But remember most in her position would have been Consumed. So we should warrant her a reward for that achievement and make her whole again.

“Besides” Orlone added after a pause “She has a large and well know record, even if we remove it, many will know she existed. And more importantly, know that someone who'd once been within the Givers presence fell to the machinations of the Curses.”

Which was best to avoid, threatening people would only go so far against rumors of someone so High being removed from all records. The Curses would use this, spread themselves through the populace as the untrained and Lowly gained the knowledge that even those near the Giver could fall.

His order knew that had for untold Cycles, but wisely kept that shard of knowledge far from the fragile minds of the untrained.

Hallarn step nearer to the figure, watching for sublet movements, one which would tell if the vessel was stirring from the Chant placed upon it. For a Sequence they made light sounds, studying the vessel before them. There were some twitches around the ears, enough to warrant them to begin chanting. Sequences passed as they covered the Voice in a fatigue her vessel would unlikely wake from. Even if she did, the Voice would so disoriented she’d have no idea what was going on, or where she was. A completely unsettled mind was just as worthless to the Curses as it was for anyone else.

They left just as quietly as they had come after the chant was done. With nothing else of import to distract them, they were both forced to wait for the acceptance into Gooth. A place which once allowed all to flow in freely.

It was going near a Round before there was any more movement from the gate. The side passage was opened again and this time a pair came through, those of his order.

The pair hurried over to them and they did the same. The two of their order study them closely as they approach, it was plainly shown they were ready for a troubling event to occur. His fellow Inquisitors stayed a few arm’s lengths away from them. Their eyes searching into Orlone and Hallarn, it seemed both of them were under inspection.

Orlone kept his hands open and in view, as did his brother. Before Orlone carefully began to roll up the sleeves of his robe, displaying bare skin to them. A full inspecting would require him to be fully revealed. As the Curses once in control of a vessel for a certain amount of time, began changing it to best match their nature. None of which was particularly blessed for the vessel, or at times provided any boon.

A lesser Vail would be insulted about the current situation, but for Orlone it had him wondering even more about what had occurred. What event caused such a guarded stance? From a Sanctum which used to be so lax on its defense. For the outer tier anyway.

The female Inquisitor on his left, motioned with her hands for Orlone to stop as he had begun to undo the folds and clips of his garment to reveal himself. They seemed appeased with the little he’d shown them. So Orlone had his hands return to a passive nature and waited for the pair to finish their inspection.

Much of it was spent staring into his eyes, for no matter how skilled a Curse was at hiding themselves, the eyes, in the end, were the best means to spot them. A blessed tool for keeping track of the condition of Inquisitors, to know whether curses were swaying them. Though the same study was useless on the untrained. For there was always something there pulling on them, whether they were Consumed or not.

A Round the four of them stood staring at each before the pair relaxed, a gesture telling Orlone he’d passed their inspection.

“A blessing the Giver has bestowed us,” The women said, “I’m Tolein and this here is Arnoc” she spoke gesturing to her fellow, the man merely nodded, his eyes sweeping over the Flock behind them.

“Orlone,” he said and pointed at his brother “and this is Hallarn.”

“I approve of the extra vigilance” his brother spoke after his revealment, “It should be made mandatory.”

Tolein face remained blank, where others would have given a small smile. “It just might, but that will be discussed after were in more hollowed grounds. You two and the Voice with you shall be admitted into the Sanctum. The rest of your Flock will have to wait outside for the time being.

“She's been rendere-” The women raised a hand causing Orlone to stop.

“We’re aware of your Task and the condition your charge is in, our own Enforcers will guide the carriage through and take care of the needs she requires.

“Very well," Orlone said feeling the pressing stare of the pair return, even though they claimed he and his brother had passed. Still, the searching continued, they were waiting for something to unfold. The pressure passed quickly due to his agreeance with their demand and they called for the carriage to be moved up to the front.

Enforcers from the Sanctum streamed out, half a Host in total, they opened more of the side gates, and one of the large ones to allow the carriage passage. All while Orlone and his entourage were watched closely. Orlone did the same to them, he searched their eyes, in the Inquisitors he found nothing, but from the Enforcers, he saw threads of Fear and Worry. But that was a common thing, it was rare not to find the curses within such people. Though not as much as he was seeing now, whatever event was occurring the two Curses were feeding off it.

Orlone and his brother were surrounded as they were guided into the Sanctum, the entire time he could feel the eyes of the Enforcers watching him, waiting for a change of event.

‘What happened during my time in the Roads?’ He wondered, the urge to know growing with each step and enhanced more when his eyes took in the sight of Gooth. Defenses were set up everywhere, the outer tier swarming with Chanters and Enforcers. New towers and walls had been made blocking paths leading to the gates. All of which was stationed with Chanters watching the gates with urgent dedication.

Similar conditions continued through the entire Sanctum as they were guided to the Inner tier. Stations and checkpoints were thick and didn’t let anyone through without the needed token. Even those of High worth weren’t exempt from such.

His vessel urged him to ask, wanting the answer to questions as much as he did. But Orlone ignored it, his fellow Inquisitors would have already begun informing him if the situation was right. Instead, they remained quiet like the rest of the group guiding them.

The reason was obvious as he studied the faces of those he passed, those guarding and performing the Tasks of protection. Fear marked them all, and Confusion, one made from uncertainty. The masses didn’t know the reason for the increase in defense and the Inquisitors of Gooth had seen fit to keep it that way.

So Orlone and his brother waited for their answers, remained silent and cooperative as they were lead deep into the Sanctum. Into the maze of hidden passages that only his order new of. The Enforcers were left behind, the charge of watching over the Voice handed to Inquisitors. As Orlone was led by his own deep into their estate. His journey ended within a testing Chamber, and him begin instructed to disrobe and allow many to observe that he was indeed himself.

Orlone obeyed the instruction with unguided movements, his vessel know the routine, removing the garment and standing in the center of the chamber in quick order. He entered a trance rather than remaining completely aware of the event. Focusing instead on the questions, and swatting down aspects of Curses which wish to form.

Orlone was waiting to be called out, for the Inquisitors to spot the one Curse he couldn’t remove. But no calls came, even as he could see Despair watching the whole affair happening with interest.

‘Can you spot something outside your believing view? See what you have no knowledge of, search for something you know nothing about?” Despair cough out as it studied the Inquisitors.

Dispair moved close to those observing him and sent: ‘They fight Fear, for they have seen many things of late that align with it.’ Despair turned to look at him, and under the hood, Orlone could make out a weak smile. ‘But they're not clever like you, haven’t questioned as deeply, haven’t come to sound conclusions. But perhaps they will once you share what you know with them, as they plan to share knowledge with you.’

Orlone didn’t send to it, instead, he ignored the Curse and turned his awareness back to his fellows. He looked into their eyes, searching for what Despair spoke of. In most, he found the calm clarity of centering, but in those with symbols that mark their youth, he saw the shapings of Fear.

The urge was there again, to ask, to seek out the answers he so desperately wanted.

‘A Sanctum fell,’ Despair sent, and though Orlone was ignoring it, that utterance had his attention pulled back towards it. ‘One you just recently left from, so it’s no wonder why they're being so guarded.’

‘Solthorn?’ Orlone thought to himself. “How?’’ he questioned to Despair.

‘You’ll get your answers,’ it sent, pointing at Tolein who was leading the testing. ‘She’s ready to reveal them.’

A Breath later and she focused on him anew, not in the ways of study but conversation. “A blessing Orlone that you're still yourself, and one of us, we’ve already lost many to a threat were still unsure of.’

Orlone felt a tingling sensation running through his palm, Excitement, one he quickly shattered and refortified his centering. “What has happened?” he finally got to ask.

From her robes, Tolein pulled and offered to him a glowing shard filled with answers. It was a strain not to jerk it from her grasp as he took it from her. He needed no encouragement to look within, and the vision had his heart beating loudly.

Solthorn was in what could only be described as a rebellious war. Chants were being fired off everywhere. The sight of it had him noticed there was no sound in the vision. It was mute, and as he watched and at times paused the vision. He could see that much of those rebelling were singing. They were smiling as well, seemed to be in the thralls of Joy, even as chaos was happening around them.

On the vision went one that was taking place in the outer tier, fighting to claim one of the gates. Orlone thought at first the rebels were trying to escape, but once the rebels took hold and opened the gate that assumption fell to a shocking revelation. Orlone eyes went wide, and he struggled to understand what he was seeing, to accept what was being shown to him.

The gate was pushed open and striding in were metal suits of armor. As large as High estates, and every single one of them endowed with the most finely crafted Wards he’d ever seen. Hearts as well, the size only those Highest should have access to.

Orlone was in the right angle to view down the Road they were coming from. Was able to see that it appeared there was a Host made up of the Giant Enforcers. The Wards on the suits flared and in the next moment Orlone watched as those fighting the rebels fell to the floor. Appearing to be struck dead by some unseen force.

The maker of the vison stumbled away, running to the Gates that lead deeper into the Sanctum. Revealing that every part of the Solthorn seemed to be fighting itself. The vision molder ran, all the way to fellow Inquisitors where the shard in his hands was passed and the vision stopped.

Orlone awareness returned to the present, where he noticed Despair hovering close to him, now double the size.

It gave him a look which matched Pity, ‘Oh child,' it sent. 'It seems you have two ends coming to claim you.’