Stalking down a winding stairway, a hooded figure descended deeper and deeper into the dungeons. It was pitch black except for a torch held in the right hand of the man, continuing to the lower depths of the palace. Reaching the lowest floor, he hesitated a moment, taking in the dark hallway before him, a wave of stench reached him and he nearly coughed, covering his mouth and nose.

Breathing in deep, he strode forward, his footsteps echoing off the stone walls, only a torch to guide his way in the darkness. He could barely see even with the light, the shadowy hallway seemed to close in on itself, narrowing, sending a bolt of claustrophobia through him. The air grew thick as if it were heavy, causing a shiver to run down his spine. For what was to come, he swallowed audibly, bracing himself for the worst.

After nearly five minutes of walking further into the cold lifeless depths, he froze at the last door, at the end of the hall. Squeaking noises drew his attention to two rats fighting and scratching at each other over a carcass, probably another rat. He ignored the tiny animals and unlatched the heavy wooden door, putting his weight into pushing, his feet slipped several times in the effort, causing scraping echoes to reverberate off the stone walls.

No one would hear him from down here, this place hadn’t been visited in the past hundred years, apart from his own presence on occasion. To him, this was normal and soothing, the lightless stone hall welcomed his companionship. He loved the cold depths of silence but his fear was not of the shadows or the cold embrace of darkness but rather what lurked in it that terrified him.

He did not fear the cold stone closing in on him nor the frigid stale air, he feared something far worse, yet he was bound by it. Doomed to live a life of eternal suffering and damnation. It was a living hell, one which he could only dream of escaping. The chilly air dried his throat and he wished he had remembered to bring his waterskin but it was pointless. His last visit here was short but was forever embedded in his memory, the least of his worries was his parched throat.

Everything he had done in the name of his master weighed heavily on him, threatening to crush his very soul. He had learned to ignore most of it by now, by shoving it into the deepest darkest hole and closing the lid, never to be thought of again. However, those memories were scratching and itching to get out, to be released, to destroy his mind.

Looking back on his orders, nearly a year ago, the hooded figure felt sick to his stomach but he pressed on, shoving down his fear and willing his body to overcome the momentary wave of nausea. Regret and shame washed over him at the memories of what he had been made to do but quickly stamped them down, unwilling to bring the past to light again.

He shoved the door open, the rusting metal hinges screeched which sent a piercing sound through the dungeon. Entering into a putrid-smelling cell, he laid the torch down and kneeled, pulling a knife from under his black cloak, ignoring the sickening odor.

Taking a deep breath, his heart pounding, he placed the knife to his palm and cut a small precise incision across his hand. Black blood trickled from his open palm and fell to the floor without a sound, it was thick and sticky and the room began to change before his eyes.

He would never get used to watching the blood cover the room in utter darkness, extinguishing the flames from his torch. Another shiver shot down his spine in anticipation, unsure of the mood his master would be in. Uncertainty made him doubt the importance of this meeting, if he was wrong, he could only guess what he would do to him.

The entire room turned into an image of a dark and desolate planet, completely void of life, in the center of this image, stood a throne, jagged and worn. Spikes poked from the edges of the large seat, as if, displaying the nature of who sat in it.

It stood from its throne, the frightening sight of the humanoid demon strode up to the hooded man. It had large boney wings with leathery skin drooping between the bones. Terrifying red eyes gazed down at his kneeling minion, creating a silence that brought fear into the man’s heart. Long sharp horns protruded from the demon's skull along with spikes jutting out from its elbows as if they were weapons. Its hands were long but tense, nails like daggers clicked against one another, making the human even more nervous.

“Master.” the hooded man whispered, bowing his head to the floor. “I bring grave news that may concern you.”

“Speak.” the demon hissed. “This better be good… for your sake. I don’t like to be summoned.”

“I have been watching and observing as you ordered, master.” the man shuttered. “King Erik, Lord Kyburn, and a young boy along with many soldiers are on their way to the border...”

“I am aware. What of it?”

“Master, they are traveling into Kligira to visit a ruin.” the man said. “I fear they have found another that was kept secret for all these years.”

Mulguran bared his teeth, his eyes flaring in rage. “Finally! They will lead us right to it!”

“Forgive me, master.” the man said. “I would have found it sooner but this was a well-kept secret until today when I overheard their conversation and due to being barred from entering Kligira I was unable to search in their lands.”

“What did they say.” Mulguran furrowed his lips. “Have they found them inside yet?”

“I’m afraid they have, master,” he said. “They plan to decipher their language and awaken the Emarine themselves. I know not how many survived but from what I overheard it is more than one. Also, master, King Erik spoke of a connection with Felkuru. It allows them to-”

“I know what he can do.” Mulguran growled in frustration, cutting him off. “Fusing with another human… he has become desperate. You’ve disappointed me, human.” the demon hesitated. “But you will remedy this mistake. You will follow them. I will deal with Fel.”

“As you wish, master.” he said. “What would you have me do?”

“Report any and all things that involve the ruins.” Mulguran said. “If they do find an Emarine alive and figure out how to awaken them, you will stop them, by any means necessary.”

Cloak hanging down, head bowed, the man shoved his face lower. “My life is yours. I will do as you command.”

“If my plans fall short I will be forced to awaken my own armies.” Mulguran said, irritated. “Leave. And do not return to me until you have something significant to report.”

Still faced down, the man hesitated before his master, worried Mulguran would be even angrier with him even though it was out of his control.

“What is it?” Mulguran hissed, noticing his hesitation. “Speak!”

“There is another ruin in Vulkira, master.” his voice cracking.

Mulguran slammed his fist down on the armrest of his throne, sending a shockwave blasting toward the cloaked man and nearly cracking the foundation of the chair. “In Vori.” his voice grew low and deep as his eyes burned bright red.

“Yes, master.” the human answered quickly, sounding terrified.

Mulguran clenched his fists and flared his wings in irritation. He took his left arm and slammed it back into the head of the throne with such force it knocked off pieces of the corner, sending it flying into the abyss of space.

“If things go on as they have, a more direct approach may be necessary. He’s forcing my hand. He knew… that bastard.” Mulguran’s anger rose. “Curse him!”

The man flinched from the booming voice of the demon, bringing terror like he’d never felt before. He knew who he spoke of but would never dare ask. Afraid for his life but terrified to speak, he didn’t move an inch and said nothing.

“You will have allies in Riqun. Now leave.” Mulguran said angrily. “If you fail your task… you will die.”

“Yes, master.” the human whispered.

In an instant, the image evaporated and a gust of air and flickers of black and white lit the room momentarily, then left the cell in darkness. His torch lit up an instant later as if it had never gone out, leaving him in a state of shaking fear. The hooded man composed himself, forcing the terror of the meeting down and ceiling it away.

He stood with his torch in hand, then left the dark lifeless room behind.