~High Entia Tomb~
1 week later
Melia Antiqua, chosen successor to the High Entia throne, made her way throughout the halls of the ancient tomb turned training ground, hoping that she was gradually progressing to the central chamber and not simply moving in circles.
Adorned with her ceremonial mask, Melia was not in a great position to detect threats coming from any direction save directly in front of her, and while she had the utmost respect for the ancient traditions of her people, she had to marvel at the utter lack of practicality surrounding this whole ordeal.
Conjuring wards of earth, wind, and ice, her strongest defensive tools, Melia did her best to avoid confrontation where she could, but as she had already disturbed no less than five ancient machinations, probably viable defenders at the time of installation but, due to lack of maintenance, easily dispatchable by the diminutive sorceress.
Utterly pointless,
she decided. Nothing in here could possibly graze her, and though the rite of ascension in the past had been a sort of proving ground, it struck Melia that she hadn’t exactly proven anything past her ability to navigate windy passages and endure hours of tedium. Yet what could she do? The stuffy advisors who had mandated this pointless trip would be her own cabinet someday, and she’d need them on her side. If that meant indulging a few outdated traditions, then she’d grin and bear it, as her ancestors must have.
After several hours, halls, and stairways, Melia reached the central chamber, where her prize, a ceremonial scepter, was fabled to dwell. Instead, she saw a single High Entia girl, crouched in the center, a mask adorning her face as well.
“You’ve arrived,” the girl spoke, not looking up. “I was beginning to think you would not be up to the challenge.”
Indignation won out over curiosity. “Of what challenge do you speak?” Melia retorted, fighting to keep her tone even. “Those golems? They seemed to fall over without very much influence on my part.”
“True enough,” conceded the other girl, who rose up from her stance. While Melia could not see her face, the empress-to-be could sense the hostility radiating toward her.
At full height, the stranger was a bit taller than Melia, but the wings made Melia seem even more insignificant in stature. Being half Homs, Melia possessed significantly smaller wings than full blooded High Entia. “You obviously know who I am. Who are you? For what reason have you waited here for me?”
“Of course I know you,” the other girl spat. “I’ve lived in your shadow my entire life. You, the half breed with the silver spoon, enjoy a life of luxury while I, a full blooded High Entia, am forced to stay in the shadows, an embodiment of someone’s inconvenient truth.”
Melia had no idea what this person meant, but she was starting to understand the girl’s less than noble intentions toward her. This couldn’t possibly be part of the test -- was she tasked with killing this stranger in cold blood? Melia would not,
could
not bring herself to make the first move. Her defensive wards, for the time being, would remain. “What happens now?” Melia ventured, hoping cooler heads might prevail.
The mysterious girl removed her mask.“My name is Tyrea. As you might have guessed, I’ve been sent here to kill you -- an act I normally would have neither moral or personal objection to carrying out.”
The use of the word
normally
was not lost on Melia, as she followed suit and removed the ridiculous ceremonial mask that adorned her own face.
“But,” continued Tyrea, “My orders did not come through the normal channels. The timing is also suspicious; I know of an incident at Prison Island that took place not more than a week ago. The word came through that same day, and here we are.”
Melia thought for a moment, back to a detail she hadn’t considered significant at the time. “Originally, this ceremony was not to take place for a few months. The timetable was moved up, just this past week as you say, but I was never told why.”
Tyrea nodded. “So there it is. The balance of power has shifted, and I’m not entirely sure your death is in the best interests of the High Entia.”
Melia stepped back as if stung. “What in the blazes is that supposed to mean?”
Tyrea paused to dust herself off. “It means that I do not trust those who might fill the void created by your untimely disappearance,” she commented idly, looking away.
The princess folded her arms in annoyance.
“Fine.” The would-be assassin stepped forward, apparently realizing her redirection had failed. “Our people are becoming weak, our blood is being diluted, and the royal family is willing to put a Homs girl acting above her station on the throne? Our ancestors would roll over in their graves.”
“My father says--”
“Your father be
damned!
Tyrea shouted. “He’s too busy coddling you to realize the usurpers are already in our midst! I have half a mind to--”
A thud sounded in the distance. “Did you--” Melia started.
“I heard it,” Tyrea agreed. “You dismantled all the sentries on your way here, you said?”
Melia nodded. “I was quite thorough. There wasn’t much else to do.”
“Then it’s something else. Let’s go.”
Deciding Tyrea had truthfully abandoned any notion of fulfilling her duty, Melia followed after the other girl out of the room, up a flight of stairs, and along several hallways. “It’s getting louder over here,” said Tyrea, pointing to the end of the hallway, which snaked away from the general direction of the now repeating pounding.
Melia waved her staff, banging it on the stones in several places, and eventually stopped on a particular section of wall. “This wall -- it’s false.” She released her wind ward, which exploded out from her, blasting away the facade of stone that had turned the T junction into an L. Melia took Tyrea’s lack of reply as either a grudging appreciation or annoyance at being shown up -- either one suited Melia.
It didn’t take long for the room to open up, yet again. The tomb was full of large burial chambers for the more respected members of ancient royal families, and most of these rooms were nothing more than testaments to wasted space. It was the sides of the rooms usually housing the burial plots, while the remainder simply existed to emphasize the opulence of the place. But instead of an empty room, such as the one Melia had met Tyrea in, this room had a contraption at its center.
And operating the device was none other than a giant Mechon.
Melia charged up an electric orb to replace the wind orb she’d dissolved. “Mechon!” she shouted, but Tyrea was already in motion. She charged the machine, a blade materializing in her left hand.
The mechon didn’t even look up from its work as it swatted her away, seemingly without effort.
Melia let her earth ward go, a blast of corrosive acid jetting toward the mechon. It contacted, but the target didn’t look much worse for the wear. Then it turned toward her, and Melia saw its face. “Well!” said a deep, throaty growl, not the automated tones of a machine, but with the inflections of a sentient being. “Can’t say I’ve seen that one before.”
“You...can talk?” Melia could not hide her astonishment. Tyrea could only groan, sprawled out on the floor nearby.
“I daresay I’ve gotten quite good at it,” came the cheerful reply. “But what’s this here? I knew I should’ve spent more time on that damn wall.”
“I demand to know what you’re doing on the sacred grounds of my people!” ordered Melia, with all the bravado she could muster.
The mechon waved one of its bulky arms toward the contraption. “Just tuning this piece of scrap here to do what it’s supposed to do.”
“And that is?”
“Just to take me and a couple friends for a short trip, see some interesting new places, that kind of thing.”
“They’re...attacking...the...city,” Tyrea forced out from her prone position, “Teleporting...bypassing the...barrier.”
Melia sent the ice ward toward the mechon, bringing a fire ward up in its place. Did the mechon have a hand in luring her here? If they really were planning an attack, it didn’t make any sense to risk their cover being blown. And Tyrea seemed just as surprised as Melia to see them here.
“You’re beginning to annoy me, girl,” warned the mechon. “But yeah, what she said. The rest shouldn’t be long now. As for you--” the mechon extended its arm, and a blade appeared. “I’m willing to divert my attention for a bit!”
The mechon leapt toward Melia with agility that caught the sorceress off guard, but its trajectory was altered almost instantaneously, as Tyrea had somehow recovered, throwing herself into the machine. The attacking mechon landed in a heap to Melia’s side, and she quickly ran over to Tyrea, who was again hunched over in pain. “Can you stand?”
Tyrea waved her away. “I don’t need your pity!”
The mechon wasted no time righting itself, and Melia unleashed a bolt of electricity at it, immediately replacing the orb. This one seemed to hit home, and the mechon reeled back. “Got some fight in you. I’ll spare you the embarrassment and just end this now, before you get any ideas about how this might turn out.” The mechon’s chest opened, where Melia could see the core sparking with energy. The taunting had been a mere distraction, and there was no way she’d be able to dodge an energy weapon in time.
A blur moved across her field of vision, and before Melia could react, the mechon discharged a blast of ether, which careened into a leaping Tyrea, who had jumped in front of Melia at the last possible moment.
The assassin turned savior lay still, chest barely rising and falling. Melia, despite the looming threat across the room, ran to her.
“Why?” was all she thought to say.
“Fool... Get...out. Use the...” the girl went limp.
Melia, a now a torrent of conflicting emotions, dared to look up. The blast from the mechon had damaged it, somehow. The sorceress could see cracks where the earlier acid attack had exposed sensitive circuitry, which, in conjunction with the emission of ether, was causing the mechon to overload.
“Threw one by me, girl,” the mechon almost seemed congratulatory. “Won’t change anything. More will come after you and I are gone. It’s been fun.”
With that, the core in its chest began to pulsate again, more brightly, and Melia knew it would be only seconds before it detonated. With no other option, Melia ran to the center console. The faced mechon hadn’t appeared to have finished the calibration job it had been attempting. If luck were on their side, the explosion might render the machine unusable.
She’d have to get out before that happened, and the empress-to-be was determined to not let Tyrea, who had just given her life for someone she hated, sacrifice herself in vain.
Melia jammed the button down and let the currents of ether take her.
was slain by a faced mechon (killed) Night 1.
Day 2 begins now.
