“In that area I have no difficulties. Let’s proceed.” Xandera rose upon her column of lava and began to glide across the lake. The twin Titans strode after her as if the rippling surface were stable, while the third rose to join them, great gobbets of magma running down its body like burning tears.
“Let’s go,” said Scorio, and followed along the lake’s edge. His eyes stung from the fumes, and the heat was pervasive. Naomi shifted up into the Nightmare Lady and prowled alongside him, occasionally sidestepping into the shadows so as to appear ahead or above on a ridge. Alain coughed and rubbed his eyes, clearly unhappy but keeping quiet.
They traversed the huge cavern, which bled into another without a clear demarcation; the ceiling lowered, rose. Scorio had to fly Alain over several stretches of slowly flowing magma, until at last they climbed a huge series of broken rocks that acted like steps, lifting them high above the cavern floor and close to a shaft in the ceiling.
Scorio flew first Naomi then Alain up the shaft and into the darkness beyond. This space was devoid of guards, but otherwise familiar. The shaft was a hole at the base of a funnel which leveled out but still rose subtly toward the interlocking patterned walls that led, labyrinth-like, toward the tunnel mouths.
A burning glow filled the base of the funnel, and then magma welled up, filling the depression till it brimmed. From this fiery pool emerged Xandera, not swimming, but simply rising as if upon a submerged pedestal.
She gazed about herself, wide-eyed. “This… I…”
Scorio gestured for Alain to stay quiet.
She walked across the magma as her three Titans emerged. Passed the trio of Great Souls and walked up to one of the broad gaps between the freestanding walls. “This…”
“Yeah, we don’t know what that is,” said Scorio apologetically, following her. “The one in the main spire’s been defaced. People tore out the most valuable parts…”
Xandera was studying the wall as she walked slowly alongside it. The interweaving bands of copper and diamond, the gleaming facets of obsidian. Threads of silver, the great swathes of iron.
Then, her expression dreamlike, she raised her hand, and the air shimmered with violent heat.
Scorio lurched back, his skin smarting. Was she attacking the wall..? But no. The heat sank into the metallic elements, and to his amazement they began to glow. A glow that emanated not just from the exposed parts, but also from within the wall proper, as if the strands and filaments of iron and silver and gold and copper were shining through a veil instead of stone and other substances.
Xandera continued pouring heat and power into the wall, causing more and more of it to light up, the dull surface soon becoming a lattice of shadow and light, each element radiant with its own hue, a world of intersections and overlaps, of blended light and poignant darkness.
“Wow,” whispered Naomi, slipping her hand into Scorio’s. “It’s beautiful.”
“So…” Alain scratched the back of his head. “Like, art?”
“Not art,” said Xandera, tone wondering. “It’s the history of my kind. A history of the blazeborn.” She blinked, returning to herself, and cut a sharp look at them over her blackened shoulder. “I can read this. It speaks to me.” She looked back. “Here I speak of the founding of the third spire, as my second daughter-self entered her breeding phase and exerted her independence from my self-mind.”
Xandera walked on, pouring heat into the wall, causing each new section to light up even as the part she left behind darkened. “So much. I’m seeing…”
Scorio shared a glance with Naomi and followed behind.
Xandera was hurrying now. Pausing, glancing from side to side, then darting away to follow a new wall segment. She wasn’t illuminating entire sections any longer, but rather eliciting enough of a glow that she could sample what was being said and then hurry on. She followed the circle of walls, till at last she reached a segment that faced the funnel in the center, its patterns bold almost to the point of crudeness, but even to Scorio he could mark the striking beauty, the daring simplicity of the weave.
Xandera raised both hands and heated the wall. The elements glowed to life, revealing themselves in relation to each other, creating a tapestry of hues, colors, and shadow.
“Oh,” said the blazeborn queen after a spell. “I see.”
“What?” Alain peered at her. “What’s this part?”
She turned to him, eyes narrowed. “This history belongs to the blazeborn, and the blazeborn alone.” Xandera lowered her hands, and the wall began to dim. “There is much I need to learn down here. But not now. Now we must cleanse my spires of Great Soul filth. Come.”
“Want me to show the way?” asked Alain, skipping up alongside her. “I spent months exploring, I’m pretty sure…”
“This is my home,” said Xandera, tone stony. “I know how to navigate its halls.”
Alain fell back. “Oh. Right.”
Xandera wasted no time. She strode forward, leaving her pool of magma behind, and their small group was followed by the trio of Titans who had to bow their heads to fit inside the large hallway.
“Most of the tunnels above are pretty tight,” said Scorio. “I’m not sure your Titans will fit.”
“They are my tunnels,” replied Xandera.
Scorio shrugged.
They reached one of the peripheral tunnels and Xandera entered it without hesitation. Scorio followed suit and glanced back to see what the Titans would do. The first, the one with the massive crown of thorns around its shoulders, strode forward without fear, and as it approached the ceiling of the tunnel glimmered as it liquefied and receded above it.
Fair enough.
Up they climbed. Around and around, Xandera picking up the pace as she hurried. The tunnel reacted to the queen’s presence; faint traceries glowed within the walls of their own accord, like veins running down the inside of a man’s arm. These dimmed after she passed. Scorio tried to keep track of their relative location, but it was impossible in the endlessly curving halls.
Xandera slowed again. It was strange, watching her. Scorio was using his darkvision, which painted everything in shades of gray, but her burning seams and glowing hair appeared as blank whiteness upon her otherwise mottled form.
“I can sense my children.” She hesitated, reached out, and place her palm on the wall. “They have grown weak and still in my absence. But they sense me in turn, and awaken.”
“Do you still have your Titans?”
“I do.” She narrowed her eyes. “Less than eighty. My drudges are nearly gone, reduced to little more than shadows of their former selves.”
She cut a glance back at them. “When we attack Bravurn I will have my children attack as well. Everyone and anyone within the hive. This will prevent Bravurn calling for help.”
Scorio could only nod mutely.
For a moment Xandera lingered thus, her expression twisted into one of sorrow, and then she drew her hand back and closed it into a fist. “I can also sense the intruders. The most powerful of them is within the royal halls. He is not alone. That will be Bravurn. I will lead us directly to him.”
“We’re with you,” said Naomi. “We’ll help you however we can.”
Xandera considered her in silence, then gave a grudging nod. “Yes. You aren’t to blame for this. I must remember that.”
And she swept on, moving even faster now.
“Ominous,” muttered Alain from behind.
Xandera left the rising spiral for a side tunnel and branched out like a thrown spear away from the spire’s center. A connecting artery. Scorio checked his reservoir: mostly full of Bronze, so he topped it off with Iron.
“Remember,” whispered Alain, pressing in from behind. “Bravurn’s powers are pretty amazing. He can shoot a bolt of iron a foot wide from his palm at high velocity, and when he gets really mad, he can drop entire cylinders on top of people. Also, he’s got this sneaky intimidation power. The more times you meet him, the more intimidating he becomes, and the harder he becomes to resist. But you both only met him once or twice, right?”