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“A thorough search can wait. We’ll find the exit, but after that we’re leaving,” you decide, nodding out towards the far end of the hall, “It shouldn’t take too long to find it, in a place like this.”
“Tempting fate,” Gratia warns with a coy smile, turning and moving on ahead. You follow after her, trusting her instincts for now as you concentrate on avoiding any of the black sludge. The more you look at the streams, the more nauseated you feel. They don’t flow like a river, as you first thought, but move with an almost pulsating rhythm. Having noticed this, you can’t help but imagine the exposed veins of some vast, living thing.
“Oh no…” Elle murmurs, wavering in place and clutching a hand to her head. She pauses midstep then loses her balance completely, collapsing down into your waiting arms. You drag her a few paces away from the filth, holding her tight until she steadies herself once more. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you,” she explains hastily, “It’s just… do you remember, how some oracles use poison to induce visions?”
“I remember,” you reply grimly, “Are you-”
“I think so,” she says in a very tiny voice, “It’s not… much fun. But I can handle it. I can hold on. But let’s not hang around here.”
That’s the plan.
-
Catching up with Gratia, you find her gazing up at a vast mural painted onto the wall in inky black grime. Time has eaten away at some of the details, even in this timeless place, but you still make out the rough shape of a city. Not any city you recognise, but something more elegant and refined. Even Elle stops for a moment, her jaw hanging slack as she studies the mural.
“They missed their home so very much,” she announces suddenly, “This was a poor substitute, but it gave them a moment’s comfort.”
“How charming,” Gratia replies drily, “But it’s of no use to us, sadly.”
You mutter a vague agreement, glancing back behind you at the urging of some animal instinct. There’s nothing there, save for a few lingering Denizens. Shaking off your paranoia, you offer Elle your arm and go back to the search. Following the wall along as it dips and turns, following senseless corners that no sane architect would design, you eventually spot a raised archway set into the stone. “That must be it,” you announce, pointing the way.
“Good. It’s not that far,” Gratia turns back, squinting as she searches out the other entrance, “And I can see a good path. Not too much filth in the way, assuming these streams don’t change at all. For all I know, we might be seeing them at low tide.”
“I could have quite happily lived without that idea.”
“Don’t lie, you were already thinking the same thing,” she teases, “I know you as well as I know myself, and I-”
“Um, hey…” Elle interrupts, tapping your shoulder, “Is that person… that thing… following us?”
[1]
