They had found them at what seemed to be the end of the tunnel. And they would kill them all. That was the first thing Jira ne'Jiral knew the moment she realized that the statues were moving. They would kill them all. What she noticed before was merely aesthetic and unimportant to any scheme, but the fictional recounting of this failed venture should a single one of their party somehow escape.

There were two of them, both fourteen feet tall and made entirely of bronze and iron with ritualistic brass-silver embellishments along the back, chest, and arms. Jira identified the embellishment as old scripture most commonly seen in the texts of the merchants and nomads wandering the Desert of Black Glass. Those texts, of course, recovered from ruins or the vast libraries of Asne Unarith. What this scripture was doing on the bodies of these lost guardians, so far from such a city, she could not say, for she had never known the people of E'aura to have come to the Bastion. Could they have been the ones to have founded this place? The bear-maiden had not reached a point in her texts that definitely identified who created the Bastion, only that they came far before even the Vamourin dynasty. Unfortunately, Jira decided once these guardians began to move, she would never have an answer.

She also noticed that their spines were spiked and marked by vestigial stumps that gave the impression of once-present wings, while their heads were gecko-shaped but substantially sharper in the chin and brow ridges. A gill-like surface covered their nostrils, eyes, and the "gaps" between their snarling lips - gills like those present on an aquatic creature - allowing the viewers to look somewhat inside the great statues. Though when those gills were filled with blue electrified flames, no one would want to look inside them. But perhaps the most disturbing aspect of these guardians was that their feet were undoubtedly human rather than reptilian like the rest of their bodies as if they were a mingling of the genetics of both. Yet another question that Jira figured she would never get an answer to.

When the two entities moved and stepped off their pedestals, their creaking metallic hands tightening around the hilts of their battle-axes, Jira ordered her soldiers to form a defensive line and prepare to run when necessary. Krea, Farrimond, Hilda, Karlyle, and Favian took up the brunt of the frontline, armed with their spears to keep the guardian statues at arm's length. Of course, Jira knew that such weapons could not possibly harm such monstrous things, no matter how skilled the five of them were.

Jira held up her rounded shield, her dagger-thin lips tightening underneath her helmet as she watched the two guardians stomp closer. Humfrye made a noise close to whimpering, as did Krea. Jira had to remind herself that none of these people had seen anything like this outside of the doings of the arcaenomancers years prior. "Move back, keep it slow," she ordered. "If they charge, do your best to dodge, and run."

"What about the door behind them?" Favian asked in a hushed tone. "Do we go for that?"

"Only if you think you can make it," Jira said.

"Are we going to die, Captain?" Humfrye asked.

"No," Jira was prepared to lie. Instead, a streak of screeching noise - like metal sliding on oiled metal - broke through her consciousness.

"Who...are...you?" the statue on the left asked, its voice a catastrophe of broken dialect and snapping beams of rust.

The ten stood in stupefied silence, their eyes wide and their mouths agape in shock. Now was time for Jira to encounter something she had no knowledge of. Golems and arcaeno-powered guardians were quite rare in E'aura but existed nonetheless, active in cities such as Khog Darohm, Darkihm, Kinoluhm, Mythena Dorei, and Afisera. According to the bear-maiden, similar constructs called automatons - powered by old dwarven mechanical industry rather than arcaeno - were heavily present in Asne Unarith. Similar, all of them, to the things that stood before her now. But none of them had ever spoken.

"State...your...names," the statue on the right demanded.

No one spoke to the things, not even a breath to indicate the very intent of speaking. They stepped closer, far more violently than the intimidating stomps from before. Jira spoke as a result; her heart stopped in her chest, and her face was sleek with cold sweat.

"I am Jira ne'Jira!" she called out, pushing her way past her soldiers. Her voice was absent of the tonal control she had implemented in front of her soldiers for the past seven years. No, even less control than that - less than even what she used in front of Gíla. The true voice of her people, the one used to speak to the arcaen, thick with accents of dismay and panic. A soup of lies boiled over the lid of its cracked cauldron. Each soldier groaned at the daggers and hooks of it, Krea unleashing a whine of discomfort and Waymar visible jolting back in surprise. "I am Jira ne'Jira of the Black Glass! We are soldiers of Sarda Kahlim, Lord of the Star Bastion!"

The things were silent, leaving the soldiers to recenter themselves from the pain of Jira's voice. She could hear the scapes of their mind slowly forming the image of wrongness that only two had ever perceived.

"What the fuck, Captain?" Waymar cursed.

"Jira, what are you talking about?" Farrimond asked.

"What's wrong with her voice?" Krea whispered.

"Captain, are you okay?" Karlyle made his way closer to Jira, his breathing ragged.

Jira said nothing.

"State...your...purpose," the statue on the left continued.

"We are explorers as much as we are soldiers," Jira answered, instinctively knowing that lying to these things was pointless. She did not know how she could know this beyond an ache in her heart, and the crushing sadness she felt for having to finally reveal the truth to those who had come to trust her. "We are in search of what lies beneath the mountains. The secrets of the Bastion."

"Captain, what the hell is wrong with your voice!?" Krea cried out. Jira did not answer her.

"What the fuck is the Black Glass?" Waymar thundered, his face red in the light of his lantern. Humfrye echoed his question, as did Favian.

"Captain, what are you talking about?" Farrimond repeated. Only the twins, Hilda, and Karlyle remained silent, their attentions struggling to remain on the towering statues before them.

The statue on the right gazed into Jira's eyes. The sweat on her face continued to run, stinging her eyes. "You...have...traveled...deep. To...seek...the...secrets...of Daea?"

She nodded. Her hands still clutched her sword and shield as tightly as a mother held her babe. "That is correct."

"What...was it...that you hoped...to discover?" the right statue asked.

"We needed...hoped to find a weapon to defeat our enemies. Just as the creators of the Bastion defeated theirs."

The statue on the left looked at its counterpart. When it spoke next, its voice was clearer of the rust that had hindered it. "The intentions of....mortal life con...tinues as it...once did. Violence."

"Conquest," the right one said.

"Victory," the left said before looking back to the ten. "But...they are...still different...than the ones from before. Was Eko right?"

"Impossible. They are still of...limited minds."

"Says the fucker made out of metal," Jira heard Waymar seethe. She turned to him with a glare through the visor of her helmet that froze him cold.

"Your voice isn't normal. Are you sick? Did you get sick? What the hell is wrong with you?" Krea practically sobbed, her face scrunched with agony.

"Impudence to authority...another common...trait," the right said with a hint of amusement to its catastrophe of a voice. "They are no better than their ancestors...we should kill them."

"No," said the left. "They are the first in...a long time. We must listen to...them."

Waymar made to say something back, but the stare from his commander kept him silent and still.

"How long have you been down here?" Farrimond asked, his voice shaky and uncertain.

"Since Daea…settled," the left answered. "Shortly…after your generation's birth."

"Our birth?" asked Farrimond again.

"We have seen so many come and go," the right one said to its twin.

"From this generation alone."

"All dead from their failures."

"How long ago was that?" Hilda asked as well. Her defensive stance was barely intact, and Jira could see the nervousness of Hilda's old-self bubbling to the surface.

"A long fucking time, Dek," Waymar grunted under his breath, prompting a resounding smack to his face from Karlyle. The twins held him from responding in kind.

"Violence among allies," the right commented, its booming volcano of a voice now clear of any rust and delay. "They continue to sadden me. Why have we not killed them yet, sister? Let me kill them."

"I said no, Voldu!" the left growled, a sound so filled with bass that the tunnel felt as if it might collapse. "Jan'o'el would be displeased if we slew them without reason. They could be the first."

The one called Voldu snorted. "We said the same of their kind that came before. They could not survive."

"There have been others?" Karlyle asked, slightly bracing himself against Hilda to keep her standing upright.

"You are not the first to have done this, child," the one called Voldu hissed with a gout of flame. "If I had had my way when your kind first came from the womb, you would be the last."

"Who has come before us?" Jira asked, wincing herself as she felt her soldiers suffer.

The one called Voldu creaked with a slow, intolerable nod. The fire in its eyes blazed with memory. "Others that defy your understanding of life. Previous generations that we were forced to watch fade when the Overseer made his inevitable decision."

"And they...they came here, like us?"

"Yes."

"Did they find anything?"

"They did," the left statue said. "But it was their undoing. They were not prepared for what they found."

"Everything will be as it was before," the right statue continued. "And it will be as it is now again long after you when the next batch comes and our Father Eko continues his pointless search."

Farrimond pushed his way next to Jira, dropping his weapons to the floor - much to the protest of Humfrye, Waymar, and Krea. "I believe you. I told those who sent here that this was a fool's errand. Whatever lies down here is not for us to use. I said we should leave it well enough alone. Whatever's down here can only corrupt and kill."

"This one understands our warning," Voldu said with what Jira assumed was a laugh. "It is smarter than the others. Though it still goes against the wishes of its master."

"Farrimond speaks truly for himself," Jira said, sharing a sad look with the man who clenched his eyes as she spoke. "And his sentiments are shared by others. But...many of us seek to right the wrongs of King Aslofidor, who has perverted the world's arcaeno. Corrupted its very uses for sick designs to remake the world into an image he and his priests deem better than the one we live in already. We seek to stop him. We seek to kill him."

The twin statues fell silent once more, and the tunnel was filled with only the wheezing sound of the ten's breathing. Then, the sister of Voldu unclasped one hand from the battle axe and slowly knelt down to eye level with the silver knight. "Tell me more of this Aslofidor."

Jira shivered as she noted that the flames from the statue's eyes produced no heat. "The land has become sick with decay. Entire fields are left to rot into sludge. Trees have become calcified. The rain is acid that makes you sick. Villages have gone empty with starvation. People fall over dead by the dozens, and those that live make hopeful pilgrimages to Aslofidor's capital or abandon the kingdom altogether. But I know that, eventually, this sickness will spread across all of Khirn, maybe even beyond it."

"This is foolishness-" Voldu began to say, only to be cut off with a wave of its twin's hand. Voldu's sister stared long and hard at the silver knight, so long that Jira could feel the tension reach a boiling point among her soldiers. "The mortal does not understand, sister," Voldu snapped. "Daea would have our heads for wasting-"

"They seek to heal the world of the Aions, Voldu," the statue snapped back, though it never took its gaze off Jira. "That is good enough to consider. Speak truly, do you seek to kill this…corruptor?"

Aions, Jira thought to herself. "Yes," Jira said, not knowing what else to say. "I do."

The statue rose to its feet and looked at Voldu. Silently, they came to a visible agreement. "Perhaps...the Overseer will spare you," Voldu's sister declared. "Perhaps. There is much to discuss, and our leader will be keen to hear it."

Together, the twin statues turned around and moved to the massive door they guarded. With their free hands, they pushed it open, snapping the rusted seals that had kept it shut for time immemorial. Beyond that door, gold-orange light broke into the tunnel, filling it with a comfortable glow for what seemed like miles upon miles. Jira turned to her soldiers and sheathed her sword at last.

"Those of you who want to return to Sarda and let him know what he discovered, you may go now," she said. Waymar immediately broke free of the twins and began walking back to safety, shouting and cursing all the while.

"I don't know..." Krea said as she finally regained her voice, locking eyes with her captain. "But..." Krea's voice failed her again.

Jira made no movement as she watched Krea, Humfrye, and Favian begin to walk away. Most reluctantly of all, Farrimond moved to join Waymar. Jira shared one last sad look with the man her mind now called a coward and watched as he, too, left to return to the surface.

"Bunch of cravens," Karlyle grumbled as he stood by his captain. Jira felt his confused - almost terrified stare. "Captain, I don't know who you really are. I don't know what the Black Glass is. I am sure Gíla would have an answer that you are unwilling to give but know that I am with you. You helped me get through the death of Torin, and by God Almighty, I am going to fight to avenge him."

Hilda stood on the opposite side of Jira, sharing the look down the coiling, iron-scented tunnel. "Farrimond said what I have been thinking this entire time. I still think it. But you're my captain. You didn't judge me for being a Dekunian. You helped me become a better fighter. I didn't judge you before on anything you did, and I won't judge you now for whoever you are. Gíla trusted you, so I'll trust you. Let's find whatever these things want to show us and go kill the bastards."

Jira was glad the helmet hid the tears welling in her eyes when she faced Hilda. "Thank you," she said simply. The three of them turned around to face the door, meeting the awaiting eyes of the silent twins. "Are you staying?" Jira asked them. They nodded in unison, bright grins cracking across their fair-skinned faces.

Together, the remaining five of the expedition walked through the shining door and into an unknown future.

"You admit to having sequestered this creature away for weeks without my knowledge, swearing your Lambency to silence, and now bring her into my throne room and expect me to listen to her filth!?"

The King was expectedly apoplectic at Gíla Arsinoe's presence in his sanctum, doubly so after his advisors informed him that this was the very same Drayheller who had joined forces with Duke Oudet in the effort to depose him. Upon a time, Gíla would have cowered under the weight of the King's wrath, but nothing - or at least very little - could have that effect on her after what she had seen in the brass tower. The King's efforts to intimidate her were lessened by the fact that he was absolutely nothing like she had expected him to be.

She had once wondered if he would be a proud, powerful man of advanced years or a fat sloth of a man dripping with the juices of chicken and pastries. Instead, she now saw him in his full glory. A withered husk of a thing bedecked in ornate robes with a jeweled crown far too big for his head sliding halfway down his eyebrows. By his side, his elite guard stood at the ready to charge the great beast on his command, though Gíla had little fear of them as well. They were living frivolity. Cheats and cravens hiding behind the ceremony of their position and the emerald plate-mail that covered them head-to-toe. Wielding weapons they only knew how to use in training and executions.

In the brass tower, Gíla had faced monstrosities beyond sanity at God's behest to prove herself worthy to him, though she had little say in the matter. Things made of pistons and flesh, rot and technology, death and undeath. Broad, slender, wide, skinny, strong, fast. None of these guards would make any difference in putting her down. They were nothing, and if they tried her, they would die like nothing.

"My King, this fine academic lady comes to us with information of the utmost importance, information that could be the key to the survival and evolution of our land," she heard Eadward say. He, compared to the King, was everything she had expected.

In God's words, Eadward Crius was the leading figure in the pointless, soon-to-be-dead worship of His name, as well as perhaps the only one who could help her find what she needed to find. He was hunched with age but regal in a way, and he demanded far more respect than the King ever could - something she could very clearly see in the faces of those in attendance. Most intriguingly, however, was that he would be the one to kill God in three years' time if the big man's words could be trusted. She had questioned Him on this, wondering why He would allow this to happen. Why would He not just smite the man where he stood or anything at all to prevent it? God had told her something that nearly broke her mind and spirit.

"Remember what I told you, Gíla. Their plan must succeed," He had said before sending her back to the earth. "I must die. I must. It is the only way."

Now she was here, working with the man that would one day soon kill God Almighty. How funny things work in this life.

"You presume to tell us that this...this thing could have anything to do with the salvation of our lives?" the Queen demanded. "This monster?"

"Yes, my Queen," Eadward said simply. "She is the brightest mind I have ever come to know. Her knowledge of the world and God's Gift is second to none in Khirn. Only her people in E'aura could compare. If I were to...if I were to even attempt at knowing what she knows, I would need a hundred more years."

The King spat on the green-black tiled floor at his feet. To the others, it was a green glob of mucus and saliva. To the bear-maiden, it was a slop of hidden illness that would soon take his life if he did not receive the necessary care. Unfortunately for him, the knowledge that the bear-maiden was to present after weeks of arduous study with Bishop Crius was unrelated to his personal health. "This beast fought against me. She denied me as a rightful ruler of this kingdom, so named after my forefathers," he thundered. "Her savagery at Vucan and Murlay became a thing of horror in my army, and now you present her as a...a scholar who holds such important and vast knowledge?"

Eadward remained steadfast. "My King, she is the key to the issues of our future that we have been discussing for years. What must we do after the world reaches a point necessary for its final evolution? How do we achieve that with God's Gift? We know not how to do it, only that we must and will. But would it be as simple as everything else we've done with it? As simple as sinking Jore or bringing about the necessary decay to the world in need of rebirth? I hoped that it would, but such a hope would ultimately be foolish. This woman, Gíla Arsinoe, has come to me with the needed answers to those questions."

"Your Grace," Gíla suddenly interjected, stepping forward to the quick reaction of the elite guard, who promptly drew their swords in anticipation of the order. Gíla barely blinked. "Your Grace, I have come with information that will ensure that your plan for healing this world will succeed. It's as simple as that. I found the book I needed with your good Bishop's help, and I am certain that I can help you achieve your goals."

"She has certain assurances, as well, my King," Eadward added. "Assurances from God Almighty Himself, Honor to our Most Holy. She speaks with His authority and word, my King."

The others in the room began to murmur. "A Drayheller with God's authority? Speaking his word? What madness is this? Has the Bishop lost sense? He speaks nonsense."

"A Drayheller fiend could never speak the word of God," the Queen declared. Her face had scowled and her voice become harsh. Gíla considered her in contrast to her King husband. Where he was sickly and suffering, she was healthy and vibrant. Where he was draped in robes befitting his station, she was clad in black scale armor traced with raven's feathers and the colors of red and lavender. Where he was thin and old and pallid, she was young and lithe and pale, not unlike Jira ne'Jiral. She was curious. She was unnatural. Yet the crowd, when Gíla gauged their eyes upon the Queen, adored her.

"The Drayheller do not even worship our God Almighty," the Queen continued. "They are...heathens. How could she speak with any authority beyond that of the Devil Below? Kill this beast and be done with it, my love."

The others voiced their agreement, and for a moment, the King began to raise his arm for the order. Gíla's arms tensed as she prepared to call on the currents of flame to burn the room down, starting with the Queen on her white-marble throne. Let's see his bastardized 'mancers counter that.

"I saw her appear in His light, my King," Eadward spoke, attempting to counter the Queen and stepping in front of the bear-maiden with as much vigor as a man forty years his junior. "I was alone in my study when she appeared out of a bright storm of brilliant white, and she spared my life when she had no reason to. I have walked the Divine Road, my King. I have seen brilliance, truth, truth that I came to you with. You had the sense and reason to listen to me then, and I have not led you astray since my return. Why would I lead you astray now in this matter? Why would I fool you now or be swayed by the wiles of this creature when I have held strong my faith in God and have never been punished for it? Please, my King. I beg you. Listen to her. Just listen to her and see the same illumination that she has shown me."

The King, despite the willful glare of his wife, lowered his arm and, with a soft wave of his hand, permitted the Drayheller to speak. Gíla untensed her arms and stepped forward again, cracking a hidden grin towards the Queen, who even upon her throne seemed small to the towering bear-maiden. "Seven years ago, I fought at the battle of Murlay where you unleashed your first of the arcaenomancers and soundly defeated us. It was a genius move, Your Grace. A move none of us in the rebellion saw coming. Only a man as strategic as you to have used advisors such as Eadward Crius here could have defeated us so decisively. I was certain to have died with the others. But, I was saved by God Almighty Himself."

More murmurs filled the throne room. The King had leaned forward in his perch, unable to resist the glorious feeling of Gíla's boasts about him and his genius. "I was whisked away into His Heaven, and I was placed at His feet with a new purpose. A purpose I should have seen before. He taught me so much about this good earth, more than anyone could ever learn in a lifetime. In a thousand lifetimes. And he did this so that I could come to you now and help you achieve your goals of bringing about a world as glorious as when He first crafted this earth. Where we can live in His light without the fear of corruption, horror, or pain. He told me how you can win and become the greatest king of the new world."

The throne room was practically buzzing with voices, so loud and giddy that the King had to demand silence three times before the bear-maiden could speak again. Everything must be exact. Everything must go according to His plan. They must walk again. Crius is the answer. He was always the answer. "There are three places that we must go to, for they hold the secrets of this victory. First, we must go to the north of Veoris, to the mountains that separate us from the ruins of the Hell Pit. There lies a forgotten church that holds a relic of undeniable strength that can carve the future you hope to create." The weapon to kill Him. "Next, we must go to the west in Tahrir, deep into a hidden cave system where a wellspring of pure wisdom resides. Knowledge that can empower your arcaenomancers and your priests to accomplish wonders they could never dream of." The empowerment to reach Him. "I will...say more of what must happen then after we have accomplished these two goals."

Her voice caught in her throat, and all eyes cemented on her as they watched her struggle to say the words. "Finally, in three years' time exactly, after what is done is done, we must...go into Heaven Itself."