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You walk, as Lady Ellenghast said you would, but you don't do a whole lot of talking. Not at first, at least. Instead, you find yourself glancing around at the forest surrounding you. The deeper you go, the more warped the trees become. At some point, and you can't remember the exact moment when it happens, they seem to bend over to form an archway above your heard, their branches entwining until you can't see a hint of sky. The only light comes from a dim glow peeking through the trees. You could light your pocket lantern, but somehow you know that it won't help. This is a different kind of darkness.
“How does he do that?” you ask, daring to break the silence, “The Sethian, I mean. How does he do that disappearing act?”
“He has learned to travel the secret pathways of the world,” Lady Ellenghast answers, “The same pathways that we now walk.”
You pause and look around you once more, feeling a new sense of unease. “You know him,” you continue, “Or, at least, you know what he is.”
“He is the man who almost achieved greatness,” she murmurs, “The man who stood at the threshold of transcendence.”
“You're talking about Apotheosis.”
“If that is what you wish to call it,” Lady Ellenghast replies, tilting her head to the side as she considers her next words. “Once, many years ago, he was just a man – a man who sought to uncover the secrets of this world. Of all his companions, he came the closest to realising the truth... and that is when your Exorcists came,” she recalls, “They burned everything that they found. It was then, as he was trapped within a blazing ruin, that he had a revelation. As his body burned, he saw the true shape of the world. Yet, he could not grasp what he saw. At that final hurdle, he failed.”
“Like the Artisan...” you think aloud, the words slipping from your unguarded lips.
“Yes,” the priestess answers, “But where the Artisan succeeded, the Sethian failed. Where the Artisan achieved true greatness, the Sethian was left with mere fragments of power. Yet even these fragments are enough to make him a potent threat – as you, I am sure, have learned.”
Cryptic as always. Though perhaps you're getting used to Lady Ellenghast's riddles, because this time you can cut straight to the heart of the matter. “So he could have become like the Sun King...” you murmur, only to look sharply around as you realise what she just said, “You know of the Artisan?”
Lady Ellenghast smiles – a lifeless reptile smile. “No,” she corrects you, “I knew the Artisan.”
The bottom seems to fall out of your stomach. Grinding to a halt in mid-step, you turn to stare at the woman, the creature, by your side. The more you look at her, the more you feel yourself drawn into an abyss of time. It's a wonder that you didn't see it before, or perhaps you didn't want to see it. Silas... Lady Sil... the face may have changed, but the eyes remain the same.
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