Great Divinity spin for us the magic circle of life. Bring forth life from death. Renew the faithful as You renew all-giving Ektren. ~ Kwellstan Sect prayer of Poteny
Alloi expected that the Grand Lumin would expel her from the city after their shocking confrontation. When the order never came, she assumed that the Kwellstan Sect did not want to appear threatened by her presence.
Through the winter, she monitored the Altular but did not detect any more torture. Dacian seemed to be in a stalemate with his captors. The Grand Lumin continued to offer promises to remove the crosha if Dacian would become compliant. Alloi doubted the Grand Lumin spoke in good faith, and, based on her sly observations of Dacian, he also seemed unmoved by the Grand Lumin’s proposal.
When Alloi spied on Dacian, she felt his patient dejection. Her natural instinct was to soothe someone in distress, but she could do nothing. Dacian had already flatly refused her help.
Alloi wondered why Dacian could not free himself of the crosha. She had witnessed his great power, but apparently the crosha was far more potent than anything she had ever known. When she had reported to the Eschalam about it, her master had been truly disturbed. He had divulged to her that such an enchantment was baytolo, which meant forbidden.
Assailed by a foreign loneliness, Alloi passed the winter learning to cope with her twin’s absence. She recognized the many-layered lesson that the Eschalam had imposed on her, and she learned to depend more fully on her own mental fortitude.
Her rigorous solitude ended in spring when her brother and parents finally returned. Alloi ached with anticipation as her family approached Kwellstan. She hired a carriage to take her out of the city so that she could greet them sooner.
Tempet met her in her mind before they physically saw each other. Sitting in the carriage, she started to quietly weep with joy as Tempet wrapped his loving thoughts around her rising emotions. The human driver looked over his shoulder at her. Alloi waved to him pleasantly to let him know that she was fine.
She reunited with her family on the road amid the stately trees of the Valley of Nufal. Birds sang sweetly with springtime optimism as they built their nests, and the sun fell like a golden ribbon upon the road snaking through the shady forest.
Tempet jumped off his horse and ran to embrace Alloi as she alighted from the carriage. The firm physical presence of Tempet’s arms and chest renewed Alloi. The relentless tension caused by his absence dissolved and she felt as carefree as a tabling. The twins laughed and cried until they finally let their hug diminish to handholding.
Alloi’s parents waited in a wagon with their baggage. Pride for their offspring glowed in their dark eyes. Their father, Havax, waved to Alloi enthusiastically. Although a quiet tabre, he had once been a famous Bozee champion. Now he was content to spend his days with his mate, Deda, and chaperone their revered twins on their diplomatic missions. Deda was a very respected tabre in Drathatarlane. She had done an incredible thing in conceiving twins and bearing them. Havax and Deda had been audacious to experiment with the forces of reproduction, but the results had been impressive. Tempet and Alloi were exceedingly powerful. Yet Deda had paid a price for her creation. She had poured her vital power into the development of her twins and the act of bearing them had aged her prematurely. Her hair was all white and the fine sharp features of youth had given way to the softer face of an elder. Deda retained her powers but her creations had shortened her life. Tempet and Alloi were gratefully indebted to their mother and felt the most absolute devotion to her.
When the family returned to their tower house in Kwellstan, Alloi was relieved to feel merry again. To celebrate, she had hired human cooks to prepare and serve a fine meal, and the four tabre delighted in conversing about pleasant subjects. Havax, Deda, and Tempet caught Alloi up on the gossip in Drathatarlane, and Alloi did likewise about Kwellstan.
When the evening grew late, Havax and Deda announced that they would go to the Plaza of the Waters and refresh themselves. Being among the very few Drathatarlane tabre who ever ventured out of their mountain city, they had become very fond of Kwellstan’s famous waters. Although they would never speak openly about it, they understood how the fabulous springs of Kwellstan had tempted the tabre out of the mountains thousands of years ago and thus begun the spiritual schism within their race.
Tempet and Alloi retired to their chambers. They had too much to express to fumble with words. Sitting side-by-side, they conversed in their minds.
Tempet gushed with feelings for Alloi, and she soaked up his pure love like a plant that has been saved by water just in time to survive a pitiless drought. She revived Tempet in the same way. They felt whole again, but their separation had strengthened them. Tempet described how he felt harder inside after a few months without Alloi’s gentle influence. And Alloi reflected on how she had become more aggressive without the sharp edge of Tempet’s potent power to rely upon. Tempet could now admit that the Eschalam had been wise to put them through this ordeal, but they both wished fervently that they would never suffer a separation again.
Tempet then pressed her for details about her confrontation with the Grand Lumin. Alloi shared her memories of the brief struggle, and Tempet was deeply impressed and proud of his sister.
He broke off their mental connection and spoke. “If I had been with you, we would have beaten him.”
Opening her eyes, Alloi whispered, “You should not speak of such a thing, especially here.”
Tempet stood up and stretched his arms above his head. “An idle boast,” he announced to the ceiling as if addressing the Grand Lumin who might be spying on them that very moment.
The birds and clouds painted on the plaster ceiling did not respond. Walking over to a counter, Tempet poured himself a cup of water from a gold-plated pitcher.
“I was surprised you took such a risk over that rys,” he commented before taking a drink.
His disapproval tickled Alloi’s senses. She told him that she would defend anyone being treated in such a beastly fashion.
“Really, Sister?” Tempet asked.
“Of course,” Alloi said. “You know I would.”
For an instant Tempet tried to be mollified by his sister’s answer. He knew her to have the kindest heart, but he could not let go of the anger rotting inside him. He had hidden it from her so far. In the glow of their joyous reunion, Alloi had missed the ugly animal that had crawled onto the bank out of the waters of his love for her.
“I saw you with him,” he said.
“Who? The Grand Lumin?”
“The rys,” he hissed. “I saw you bring him to our own house. I saw the kiss.”
Alloi at first meant to argue. She had not kissed Dacian, but then she recalled her brief brush of the lips on his forehead when she was moved by pity. Tempet was jealous she realized.
“I don’t know why I did it,” she confessed. “He was in so much pain. I wanted to make him feel better.”
A sick looked crossed Tempet’s face before he bottled his rage again. He could not abide the thought of any male attracting his sister. He knew it was not right, but it was true.
“You have affection for him,” he said.
Alloi shook her head. “Compassion, Tempet, compassion. There’s a difference,” she insisted.
“I suggest you rid yourself of both,” he declared and slammed his cup on the counter.
Alloi gaped at his harsh command. Tempet stalked onto the balcony and Alloi hurried after him. The air was cool and fresh with the scent of fresh foliage. A group of human males walked by on the street below. They were laughing at one of their mate’s crude jokes.
Alloi set a hand on her brother’s shoulder. He was leaning over the railing and watching the humans as they strolled toward the lake. Through gaps in the trees, a few lighted boats tinkling with music could be seen on the water now that the weather was mild.
“Are you going to start giving me orders?” Alloi asked.
When Tempet shut his eyes, she felt his distress radiating from him like heat from a fire. His thoughts and feelings were a tangle and he was pulling the knot tighter.
He apologized to her and then embraced her. With his lips next to her ear, he cast a warding spell. Alloi relaxed inside the bubble of his protective energy and added her own power to it.
Once they were certain that not even the Grand Lumin could overhear them, Tempet whispered, “Dacian is dangerous. You must cease to pity him.”
Reluctantly, Alloi said, “I know he is dangerous…but he does not want to be.”
Do not tell her, Tempet reminded himself. The Eschalam said I must not tell her.
Keeping a secret from her was uncomfortably difficult. Tempet hoped that revealing his jealousy over her so-called compassion for Dacian had masked his deeper turmoil.
He said, “Alloi, the rys is a Kwellstan abomination. Reserve your compassion for your own kind.”
Then he broke off his warding spell so they could not pursue the delicate subject further.
Alloi noticed him clenching his right hand into a fist. He had closed part of himself away from her. This shadow within his thoughts puzzled her as much as it hurt her. Perhaps it was their long separation that had spawned this sudden zone of privacy. Trying to be respectful, she resisted confronting him and asked instead about the new black ring he wore on his right forefinger.
Tempet slipped it off. “It’s a new charm our Sect wishes for me to test,” he explained. He then applied his magic to the ring. White energy glittered around it and then it swelled into the shape of a ball. Just as Alloi exclaimed with delight, Tempet changed the shape to a butterfly with flapping wings. She laughed and Tempet let the charm return to its original ring shape and handed it to her. Alloi amused herself with the charm, making it into a bracelet and then a cup. She was glad for the diversion that had steered their conversation to a pleasant place.
Returning the charm to a ring shape, she slipped it back on her brother’s finger. Quietly she said, “Do not be jealous, Tempet.”
He nodded with an apologetic light in his eyes.
Alloi retired to her bed. The happy glow from reuniting with her family had faded into troubled thoughts, and she snuggled a soft rabbit fur blanket to her face. The spring breeze came in the open windows and fluttered against the gossamer curtains hanging around her bed.
Tempet entered the room and slid into the bed with her. They hugged each other in mutual fetal positions. Contritely, he apologized for speaking to her in anger.
“Rest, my Sister,” he whispered, and Alloi fell asleep in his arms and slept blissfully well.
The Altular had been abuzz for days as the priests prepared for Poteny. On the high holiday that marked the beginning of planting season the mighty Nebakarz beckoned the blessings of the Great Divinity to invigorate the land and the people. Music, dancing, sports, theatric performances, and art burst from every street in thriving Kwellstan during the celebration.
Poteny was always a beautiful holiday, hectic with optimism and joy at the passing of dreary winter. Even if clouds or rain blocked the view of the horned moon, the festive atmosphere was not diminished.
Dacian suspected that he cast the only gloom upon the upcoming Poteny. He stood on the balcony near his modest room and watched tabre putting the finishing touches on the Grand Lumin’s carriage in the great hall below. Delicate spells of preservation were being applied to the flowers as they were attached to the carriage so that not a single petal would fade.
On Poteny, the Grand Lumin left the Altular and paraded through the city in his flower-covered open carriage. He started in the morning and went to Dedenep Square in the heart of the human district. There, the Grand Lumin would perform acts of healing upon the sick and injured. Poteny was the only day humans could hope for freely given Nebakarz healing magic, so needy supplicants from throughout Nufal would pack the square. The powerful theatrics of the event renewed the emotional devotion of the humans.
Then the Grand Lumin would proceed to the Plaza of the Waters where gathered many tabre from throughout Nufal, except for Drathatarlane. Upon reaching maturity, tabre made a pilgrimage to Kwellstan to receive the blessing of the Grand Lumin. This important rite of passage swelled the city with enthusiastic young tabre and maturing tablings and added to the festive atmosphere.
The Grand Lumin would perform blessings upon tabre at the Plaza of the Waters until sundown when the sliver of the first quarter moon was revealed just above the mountains.
As Dacian contemplated the festival preparations, he could hardly tolerate memories from his earlier and stupidly naive life. He had once imagined being the first rys to join the Poteny procession and thereby lifting the status of all rys. Stewing in hostility, Dacian ridiculed all his foolish fantasies.
Despair over those crushed dreams had impaired Dacian during the lonely disgraceful months since he had escaped the torments of the pit. His misery made it difficult to concentrate. And when he had tried to contact Onja, he had been unable to find her or Halor.
Only the mental discipline that he had honed over the decades saved him from spiraling into a total listless stupor. Even unable to grasp the concept of hope, he had repaired his mind enough to grapple with his main problem, the crosha. Struggling through the pain, he had meditated and studied its sinister enchantment at length. He was discouraged by what he had discovered, which explained why the Grand Lumin had not interrupted Dacian’s examination of the crosha. It drew energy from the pump and flow of his living body. He had discovered that he could weaken the crosha by slowing his body. When he approached a hibernative state, its deadly grip on his heart loosened a little, but Dacian believed that he would have to enter a prolonged hibernation to ultimately free himself. He would be utterly vulnerable if he entered full hibernation, and the Grand Lumin or almost any tabre could kill him or worse during that time.
Embittered by harsh treatment, Dacian had begun to consider strategies more foul. He could forsake his moral high ground and unleash his hostility. A pile of dead tabre might induce the Grand Lumin to set him free. It would certainly prompt a confrontation in which Dacian would either escape or die. He welcomed either outcome if it meant an end to this depressing stalemate.
In his desperation Dacian had thought to call upon the Great Divinity. He wanted the help of his creator, but his prayers were buried in the grave of his heart. He dismally figured that his accursed existence proved that the rys were not the favored race.
Although unwilling to call upon the divine, Dacian still longed for help. He wished that he had been able to contact Onja. He suspected that she had fled into the human lands of the west again and perhaps Halor had gone after her. Dacian had only looked for them in Jingten. He considered going back to his room and entering a trance and sending his mind farther west, but how would that help him? Even if he found Onja, she would be too far away to aid him. Accepting that he was utterly alone, Dacian decided that Poteny was his chance to act.
Music awoke Dacian on Poteny. From his narrow bed he could feel the sunny day outside. The Plaza of the Waters brimmed with tabre and humans. Inside the Altular, Nebakarz musicians were tuning their instruments and warming up their voices. They cast spells upon the wood, bone, strings, and metal parts of their various instruments to enhance the sound. All instruments always played more beautifully in the hands of a tabre artist.
Dacian listened to the music and even allowed himself to enjoy it. The Nebakarz sang their holy praises of the Great Divinity, and the faith evident in their glorious voices stirred even Dacian’s cynical soul.
He tracked the Grand Lumin as his immense presence came down the main levitation shaft to the ground floor. Dacian subdued his ugly hatred and tried to observe casually the movement of the elder tabre as he made his way into the carriage. Dacian did not want to attract any attention to himself with powerful emotions. His neutral disregard for the holiday seemed to suit his captors, who appeared content to leave their dirty laundry inside on this high holy day.
The Grand Lumin stepped into his carriage. It had no wheels, but his magic raised it off the floor so that it could gracefully levitate while being gently pulled by an impeccably groomed white horse. Flower petals of every possible hue had been applied to the carriage in a careful progression of colors from light to dark. Meticulously blended petals created subtle shifts between each color so that the whole carriage looked like a rainbow cast upon a cloud. It was a work of art truly worthy of the Great Divinity.
As the Grand Lumin exited the Altular and greeted the roaring crowds, Dacian noted that Daykash Breymer remained in the Altular with a few select priests.
So I won’t go unguarded after all, Dacian thought. It did not matter. He was going to act today, and he almost did not care what the results would be. Taking action was what mattered. The stalemate had to end. Upon reflection, his whole life seemed to be a stalemate. The uneasy relationship with his parents and plodding tutelage of Halor were glaring examples. Dacian believed now that he had never really done anything until he had stopped Onja’s beating with the phlia-mel.
Dacian waited while the Grand Lumin wended his way toward Dedenep Square. Daykash Breymer returned to his chambers. The Altular had never felt so still. Barely twenty five tabre were left inside the enormous building. The others were occupied with duties around the city or were out enjoying themselves.
Dacian stood up. He was ready. During his meditations over the last two days, he had not focused on how to remove the crosha. He would never have the safe privacy to do so inside the Altular. Instead he had braced himself to endure its pain and hopefully slow its lethal effect.
Dacian cast a cloaking spell around his body like he had observed the Kahtep acolytes do the summer before. When he left his chamber, the hall was silent and empty. He walked to the balcony and casually peered down. The scent of flowers drifted up. The delicate and clean smell summoned the true meaning of Poteny, and Dacian inhaled deeply. Poteny hailed the coming bounty of the planting and growing seasons, and Dacian would allow the foul seeds of his fate to grow and bear fruit within him.
Dacian hurried toward the main levitation shaft and shot upward, passing through the Grand Lumin’s private level and stopping at the highest level. He had no delusions about his cloaking spell actually masking his movement from Breymer, but he was trying to get attention right now.
The uppermost level of the Altular held meditation chambers reserved for the highest ranking priests. Here they experimented with spells and contemplated the heavens that arched above the sacred altar mounted on the pinnacle of the temple.
Dacian entered a chamber that had an hour-glass shaped window that faced east. Instead of glass in the window, a permanent spell kept the elements out. Dacian brushed his fingers against the magic and it flickered redly around his finger as if living tissue had been irritated by an allergen.
He sauntered over to the vision crystal mounted at the center of the room. It was a perfect sphere, milky white, and swirling with enchanted light. Crystals such as these were linked to crystals in the other temples in Kahtep and Hedenar. Dacian doubted that anyone was watching him through a crystal in another town. The Nebakarz priests would be overseeing their smaller Poteny festivities throughout Nufal. Dacian knocked the sphere from its stand and it rolled along the tile floor before stopping against a rug. The light within the sphere flashed furiously. Dacian smiled with mischievous satisfaction and then cast a much more thorough cloaking spell.
Rushing back to the levitation shaft, he jumped into the vertical tunnel but purposefully did not take hold of the focused force. He free fell down the length of the Altular. The mortal thrill of it made Dacian feel more alive than he had thought possible.
At the last moment, he cast a levitation spell to halt his fall and he dove through a doorway. He hoped that his diversion in the upper chambers would misdirect Breymer. With his cloaking spell still blurring his lifeforce, Dacian trotted to a small service stairway that connected to the Grand Lumin’s private level.
He stepped lightly, barely making any sound as he raced up almost twenty levels. He sensed the Daykash and his comrades using the levitation shaft. As Dacian expected, they were now looking for him on the top level.
Adjusting his cloaking spell again, Dacian stepped out of the narrow stairwell. A thick red curtain covered its entrance and he moved it aside only a little to look with his eyes before proceeding. A permanent hush dwelled within the sprawling chambers of the Grand Lumin’s level. Blood red carpet and lovely tapestries that mapped the stars furnished the many empty rooms. Dacian could feel tabre rushing around the level above. His ruse would not last long.
Dacian headed directly for the audience chamber of the Grand Lumin. A spell sealed the doors. With a fierce sense of superiority, he cracked the sealing spell with a single pulse of his magic and entered the seat of Kwellstan Sect power.
The room was not nearly so intimidating without the Grand Lumin perched upon his black cushions. But Dacian was not particularly interested in this room. The rooms beyond were certain to hold more interesting things. Dacian cracked the sealing spell on the next set of doors. He found himself in a work shop and supply room. Swiftly he tuned his mind for the sho poison and scanned the cupboards. He located only three small bottles. Bitterly he assumed that the Grand Lumin’s supply had run low. Dacian shoved the bottles into his pocket and then he found the darts and blow guns, but he only took the darts. Many other interesting potions occupied the shelves, but he could spare no time to ponder them. Dacian felt the lifeforces of Breymer and the other priests flare within the levitation shaft as they jumped down a level.
With the force of his mind, Dacian yanked the doors to the audience chamber shut and put a sealing spell of his own on them. He did the same to the doors of the workshop and rushed deeper into the private rooms of the Grand Lumin.
He sought the library. The running feet of the Daykash and the priests echoed in Dacian’s sensitive mind as they rushed through the empty rooms. Dacian found the library and barged in, but even in his terrible haste he skidded to a halt as he beheld the heart of Nebakarz knowledge. Scrolls and bound books filled narrow rows of shelves from floor to ceiling. Some of the preservation spells were so strong on the oldest documents that they gave off a faint glow. Tens of thousands of wafer thin stone discs lightly carved in Nebakarz characters were stacked like dishes in dozens of cupboards mounted on the end caps of the bookshelves. He had often dreamed of learning of the wonders so carefully recorded here.
The floor vibrated angrily beneath his feet. The Daykash had just blasted through the first set of doors. Dacian ran down a row. He looked up and down, truly bewildered. His task was hopeless. He had wanted to find the spell for the crosha but he had no time. Without knowing the filing system – if there was a system – Dacian would need weeks maybe months to find the information.
A powerful force attracted his attention. In the far back of the library, he found a massive stone door bolted in place with enchanted crystals. A sealing spell of perilous complexity barred this door, and upon it Dacian recognized the seal of the Grand Lumin. The angular script of the ancient Nebakarz was engraved within a circle that represented Ektren. The door was surely the vault of the Kwellstan Sect’s most important treasures and records. If the spell for the crosha had ever been written down, then it was reasonable to look for it in that vault. Dacian examined the spell locking the door and hesitated. This was no normal enchantment. It might kill him if he triggered it incorrectly.
He heard the doors on the workshop bang open and knew that he would never get his chance to see inside the vault of supreme secrets.
Frowning with regret, he ducked down another row of books. The tabre were nearly upon him. He opened a bottle of sho and dipped three darts into the bottle. Tabre priests rushed into the library. Dacian cast an attack spell at the shelves closest to the priests. The shelves and scrolls exploded. Hot splinters of wood struck one tabre who cried out. Dacian blew up another shelf and it crashed into the next shelf, which started a chain reaction throughout the library. Dacian raced to the end of the row and avoided the tumbling shelves. He then cast a heat spell upon the debris, and flames instantly took hold. Decay that had been thwarted for so long took hot bright revenge upon the ancient texts.
The tabre priests cried out with alarm to see the swift destruction of their sacred library. One even started to frantically slap at the fires, completely distracted from his original purpose.
Dacian rushed for the door. Three tabre barred his escape. Dacian summoned a shield spell and tossed the three darts. Driven by his mind, the darts spread out and each struck a tabre. It had been easy to guide the darts with his powerful will. Easy.
Attack spells struck Dacian but withered as the tabre slumped against the wall. The middle tabre fell backward through the door. Dacian jumped over him and noted the tabre’s amazed expression. All tabre felt threatened by his power yet their prejudice caused them to always underestimate him.
Dacian ran back the way he had come. He sensed the trap waiting for him in the audience chamber but he entered anyway. As soon as he came through the doors, six tabre priests assaulted him with combined attack spells. Dacian lurched and twisted as the biting energy thrust and tugged painfully on his body. His flesh felt about to rip off his bones. He bowed to one knee not far from the black cushions of the Grand Lumin. The crosha pained Dacian as well. Clutching the evil charm embedded in his chest, he rallied his mental discipline and blocked the pain. When he looked up, Breymer was standing in the doorway. His eyes glowed with white light and his narrow face leered with gloating glee.
“I knew you would do this today,” Breymer said.
Dacian looked up at his tormentor as the other tabre priests pressed closer in a tightening circle. Their spells were intensifying.
“Your library burns,” Dacian hissed and rage quaked across Breymer’s face. Such audacious desecration deserved infinite horrors, but Breymer was not going to linger over the punishment. He would put this rys beast down.
“All your kind will die,” Breymer promised. “Their souls will be stripped of their magical essence to increase our power and then they will burn.” The Daykash cast his attack spell, aiming for the crosha so as to build upon the Grand Lumin’s magic that already sabotaged Dacian.
Dacian gave up his long fight against his raging demons of revenge and justice. The ordered world of civilization that the Nebakarz had created had no place for him. Dacian burned the leeches of restraint from his good heart and allowed the bitter rotting anger of his whole life to consume him. His attack spell exploded from the inner fire of his magical soul. His power thrust the six tabre priests back against the walls and pinned them there, and the Daykash’s attack spell passed harmlessly over Dacian’s body.
The Daykash took an involuntary step back, truly afraid. Dacian did not cast another attack spell. While still pinning the other priests against the walls, he stalked up to Breymer until his chest heaved against the chest of the second most powerful Kwellstan Nebakarz.
Breymer reached for a poisoned dagger and Dacian reached for his neck. The rys was faster than the lifting blade. “This is for Onja,” he said and grabbed Breymer and snapped his head loose from the spine in one swift expression of merciless physical violence.
Dacian twisted the head until only loose flesh connected it to the body. The light faded from Breymer’s eyes, and Dacian cast a heat spell that cooked the brain. Breymer, Daykash of the Kwellstan Sect, died. His soul slipped away from his slack body. Dacian let the dead weight of the tabre tumble from his hands. It slapped against the floor and the loose head rolled like a ball on a string.
A final wave of Breymer’s malice lashed at Dacian as the dead tabre’s soul swirled around its killer, but Breymer could do the rys no harm. The inexorable pull of the next world beckoned the soul toward forgetfulness and freedom.
Dacian took a deep breath. His body shook from serious pleasure. He was not disgusted with himself. Breymer deserved what he had gotten. Dacian was only defending himself, but that was not the only source of his satisfaction. He had killed for Onja and that felt good. He knew that he would defend her always because she was all that was beautiful and powerful and free in rys.
He turned and released the other six tabre from his spell. They regained their footing but did not advance. They gaped at Dacian, too overcome by his awesome power to do anything.
Dacian swept his blazing eyes around the room, meeting the gaze of each tabre.
“I never wanted this. This is YOUR fault,” he declared and stalked away.
Dacian was not immediately followed. The surviving priests scurried to save their library and mentally raise the alarm among the other priests.
Dacian descended the levitation shaft and met no resistance in the main hall. When he exited the levitation shaft, he looked over his shoulder thoughtfully and then gathered his magic to cast another spell. His power exploded within the magically constructed shaft and splintered stone. Dacian repeated the spell and blasted more rock away from the sides of the shaft until a heavy cascade of rubble crashed down and filled up the entrance to the levitation shaft. Satisfied, he shut the golden doors.
Let the Grand Lumin take the stairs, Dacian thought.
Heading for the golden sublime sunshine that glowed through the entrance of the Altular, Dacian meant to continue his celebration of Poteny.