(no subject)
It was a good thing that he was on a very short list of people who could. Crossing these two is something that no one to his knowledge had ever done and survived.
The spectral guardians watched him soundlessly as he approached took off his glove. Cold washed over him as he felt their eyes bore into him. He shook his head. There wasn’t time to waste. He placed his hand on the cold stone of the mausoleum, and braced himself for the shock he knew was coming. Eldritch power flashed over him for a second and once again, Caldian considered himself lucky to be on this particular guest list. It wouldn’t take a genius to tell you that this particular protection qualified as lethal under normal circumstances, if the pair of watchers didn’t finish you off first.
The blue lightning coruscated around his hand for a moment longer, and then the door unsealed, stale air blasting out of the tomb. How long had it been since anyone had opened it to the outside? He stepped inside…
You do realize that I do not take kindly to intrusion.
Caldien froze as the voice echoed in his head.
Caldien of Turylon, out of Kianna by Adama. What does one of the sons of Atlantis want with me. What would dare you to enter my domain?
Caldien hit his knees. Guest did not mean welcome apparently. “I meant no offense Lady. But I must speak with one of your heirs, Merkadian. His daughter is in danger.”
Merkadian’s daughter still has her part to play in the Great Song. Who would dare to move against the Prophets, or against my House?
He looked up just enough to see the spectral feet of the Queen of Stars before he dropped his head again in reverence. Even as a shadow of her former self, here was someone who could demand respect from any being; living or dead, god or devil.
“The children of Myrkul, Lady. They have crossed the ocean and landed in my home. They are looking for something, and Merkadian’s daughter has become involved. They…they found a way into the Emerald Barrow.”
I have waited, watching for nearly a millennia for the Great Song to be completed. That broken shell who calls himself a god will not pass the Gate of Morning, by all the star’s in heaven.
The threat in her voice was very clear. Like the mausoleum around him, her voice in his head carried with it the iron clad finality of the tomb. Caldian looked up, compelled by a silent command in her voice. Eyes burning with starfire and hatred lanced into his soul.
My will shall be done, and you shall be the instrument of my wrath. Return to Turylon and leave no worshipper of that wretched godling alive. Kill anyone who gets in your way.