Chapter 22: Short on Time

"Barring any interruptions."​

You know you want to get to the lowest level of the ruins, into the caverns beneath the city of lights. The question is how. Even if you all pick your path carefully, getting there will still take several days of marching. You don't know when the buildings last reoriented themselves with absolute certainty— and if you don't make it below the ruins of the city within a week of the last change, you could be caught between buildings... or worse.

"We're heading towards the lowest level of the ruins. There are caverns down there that once— that one housed many demons. There were caches as well, of— of magical artifacts— even deeper below the earth. I strongly suspect that we'll find the relic there, if it's— if it's to be found in this portion of the ruins at all."

Adjusting her gear— ready to go— Ofelia pipes up. "Assumin' you know the way, then?"

"I do. I'd like to take the shortest route we can. This building reorients itself periodically. I am— I am deeply concerned for your safety, were we to be caught in it. We won't get very far if we don't resupply. Celegwen— is there no way you can conjure any food or water? We could side-track here to gather what we need, but I wanted to ask. I recall that you were able to— to do so before—"

She tries to give a patient, level, and methodical explanation. "We have been running for our lives and watching our every step for days. I simply haven't had the time to try. I was able to withhold my fundamental knowledge of the arcane from the demon that took so much from me— but I cannot relearn these skills without time and practice. It's taken me over two hundred years to master the art, and I had much of that stolen from me, Father. I cannot possibly hope to relearn everything I once knew in the little time we have here."

Time.

A cold sweat hits you. It would be unbelievably dangerous. You've never prayed directly to Her before. You've always exercised the utmost prudence with Her. But with where you're going— what you want to do— you genuinely don't know what to expect. You could lose your way, or be lost without resources. You might not have time for scavenging if you're only going into greater danger. You normally would never be able to give back the elf her lost time— but you're far from a normal man.

Your fear is impossible to mask as you inquire, "how much time do you think you would need?"

"Only a few days to grasp the start of the spell. I would need much, much longer to master it. Conjuration is incredibly taxing on me— but I recognize our need is great."

Your heart sinks. Demons do not subsist as humans do. The library may be the last place for a long while that you will see any resupply.

Mother Aimar, leader of the Church of Time, has only written to you once— on the day you became the leader of the Church of Mercy. She formally welcomed you into your rank, and nothing more. You have never been able to speak to her at length and know very little of her practitioners. The Church of Time is nestled deep within the Folorast mountains. It's several weeks away from your home— by horseback— at best. You've never found the need to journey to see her, and have respected Time enough to never invoke Her.

You have no idea what you'd be getting into. You've only heard whispers, warnings, and caution against ever trying to turn back the sands.

You echo Celegwen's words back to her. "Our need is great..."

Conflicted, you fidget with your holy symbol and keep your eyes downcast. You are hardly a coward, but you can't help but feel like one. Especially when lives are on the line and you can't even make up your mind. Your verdant eyes fall onto your hanging robes, your thin wrists, and you grit your teeth. Your need is great, but there is no telling how high the cost may be of invoking Time here. You would ask Spirit for Her aid as well, but you know it's more prudent to respect the will of the Gods. Besides— there is another way to gather resources before you set off. One that doesn't require invoking Them.

"We need to double back to the front of the library." Wistfully looking over the small room you've been occupying, it's difficult to mind what a mess Celegwen and Ofelia have left . Your eyes linger on the disarray and empty shelves. Melancholy creeps into your voice with the reminder that you may be the last person to ever read the tomes of Ostedholm. "We'll gather as much food and water as we can carry. I understand that the patrols will likely have returned, but..."

You can feel the two women scrutinizing you as you trail off.

"But what?" Ofelia asks.

"...but I fear it may be our best option."

She sighs sarcastically. "We're headin' into certain danger. Whatever are we to do?"

Celegwen chimes in with a cheeky smile. "Surely, we fair maidens are better suited to a safer path."

Kneeling down, you scratch Ray behind his ears while masking your amusement. "I'm glad you're both alright with it. We'll move quickly. I suspect that it will take a full day of hard marching to— to reach the lowest level of the ruins, barring any interruptions."

"Let's get goin', then." Ofelia's smirk subsides. "You leadin' the way, hotshot?"

You give Ray a pat on the head, and motion for him to follow you. "Good boy, Ray. Here, boy. If it's alright with you, Ofelia, would you please keep ahead? I can direct us, but your eyes are far better than my own."

"I see how it is." The halfling is already heading out of the room. Her voice drops to near- incomprehensible murmurs while she rambles to herself. "Usin' me as a meat shield, eh? I make fer a pretty poor one. Of all the nerve..."

You all slowly file out of the room you've been occupying. Ofelia slips out first, motioning for everyone to safely follow. "Hurry." She whispers, "this place is swarmin'."

After Celegwen manages to slip out of the exit, you pat Ray on his side. His ears are back, and his tail down. There must be danger ahead.

"Come on, boy." You whisper reassuringly, "good boy, Ray. Going to do something real nice for you when we get back home. We'll get you a steak. Big as your head. Just a little while longer, boy. Come on. Let's go."

Ray eventually makes his way out. You're the last to leave.

Your eyes linger for only a moment on the spot you and your friends occupied as they hugged you for the first time. You try to sear the image into your memory— desperate to hold onto some good in the world.

You turn and leave. It's effortless to slide out into the hallway— and you're immediately pulled by your robes. You nearly let out a gasp, but put a hand to your mouth to muffle it. Celegwen puts a finger to her lips as she finishes pulling you behind a sharp turn in the hallway. Beside her are Ofelia and Ray. They all look terrified.

Celegwen keeps the finger to her lips, and points to your right. You follow her hand, and see two imps skittering along the ceiling just down the corridor. They're decked to the teeth with knives.

You take your hand off of your mouth, placing it over your holy symbol instead. Its warmth is faint but reassuring, as always. Your pulse slows. Looking to your companions, you gesture with your free hand towards the opposite end of the hallway.

Everyone immediately takes off. You and Ofelia wordlessly coordinate your return to the front of the building. She stops you all frequently, while ducking around countless corners, slipping behind protruding columns of stone and weaving behind bookshelves. The labyrinthine structure of the city of lights is a challenge to navigate— but fortunately, you both know the way to your destination.

Each and every time the rogue pauses you continue to guide her. Your combined efforts see you back in one piece— but just as you think the coast is clear, Celegwen holds out a hand.

Your company comes to a stop.

Wordlessly, the elf puts her hands to the sides of her head like a pair of horns. She bares her teeth in the cutest conceivable imitation of a demon you've ever seen. You struggle to not make a sound at the sight. It looks as if Ofelia is repressing her laughter as well. Celegwen pouts, and motions for you all to inch forward. You put out a hand to stop Ray from leaping ahead, and leer around the corner with as much caution as you can.

The water-logged and moss-filled entrance to the library is as invigorating as it was the day before— save for the demon centered in the room. You only risk a brief glance at it, and struggle to place the figure in any hierarchy. It's neither a man or woman. Neither corporeal nor bodiless. Its shape fizzles in and out of existence, with thin streaks of black and gray. A crisp noise emanates from its humanoid silhouette with each reappearance of its odd form in light and shade.

You pull back around the corner. It's only one demon. It doesn't seem to have noticed you. Surely you can take it.