4.2.25 - The Weepers of Distant Forevers pt 3

Parable 3: Ash and Interrogation

They moved deeper.

Down past worn stairs and hollowed vaults, past doors marked in rusted sigils and dust-slick glass, the Moonya entered the catacomb’s surveillance chamber—an enormous room layered with stone-pulse controls and a halo of holostone projectors humming faintly in the cold.

Cameras blinked to life.

Onscreen: two Zealots. Soet and Etos. They surrounded a man with janitor's credentials and no weapons. His uniform was torn. His face bruised. One Zealot was plucking his armpit hairs. The other held his nose hairs like sacred threads.

"Is that him?" Aillag asked flatly.

"No, my Moonya," Lyzair replied, eyes tense. "That is Algahast. A janitor. He overheard something near the research wing. We detained him... but this meeting with the Zealots was never sanctioned."

Aillag sighed.

"Disgusting. Can we turn it off?"

"We can," Lyzair said, gesturing to the holostone crafting a delicate recording disk, "but we’ll lose the feed."

Aillag stepped out of the hidden chamber, looking for another angle. She brushed past a guard seated near the console—and immediately recoiled.

Her fingers were wet.

Sweat, from the guard’s scaled skin. It coated his uniform, clung to her hand. She wiped it on him without ceremony.

He stood, startled, and in trying to bow, tripped. He slammed into the console, knocking over a steaming cup. The coffee splashed across Aillag’s silken dress.

He froze.

"Brightest Sol," he breathed, terror blooming across his face. "I beg your forgiveness. I will correct it immediately."

He reached to clean her shoe.

Aillag looked down.

"Die. Now."

The guard bowed once, slowly. "As you wish, my Moonya."

He turned, walked to the corner, withdrew a bladeless hilt, pressed it to his chest.

With a whisper of activation, a blade formed—and pierced him cleanly into the wall.

The room fell silent.

Every other guard dropped to one knee.

Aillag brushed her shoulder.

"Viumod," she said softly, "request the holotapes be delivered before our departure for Souama."

Instead of moving, Viumod began dabbing at the spill on Aillag's chest.

"These towels absorb all of Koga’s pee," she said with sleepy confidence. "Moonya, this one’s got the good ridges."

"Stop drying me. Ready the vehicle."

Lyzair, panicking now, gathered her things.

"Moonya," he said urgently, "we must leave. The King's guards are patrolling the outer cell blocks."

A sudden blast echoed from deeper within.

Lyzair ran back to the holoscreens. Aillag followed.

One screen blinked into darkness.

"He shot the camera," Lyzair muttered. "But we may still have sound."

The console stuttered. Sound flickered in. Screams. Then silence.

Lyzair handed her a pack of data crystals. "We'll get the rest to you once we can extract it."

As they left the surveillance chamber, guards swept in behind them. One carefully lifted the impaled soldier from the wall.

Aillag glanced over her shoulder. "He didn’t have to... but I’m glad he chose honor over legacy."

Lyzair nodded. "The outer perimeter is expanding. We must hurry."

Viumod, now more alert, grabbed Lyzair by the ears.

"Next time," she hissed, yanking downward, "warn us before the Zealots arrive!"

She clambered onto his back. "You’re carrying me now."

He grunted, supporting her weight as they shuffled forward.

"Lyzair," Aillag called behind them, her voice sharpening, "did you speak to the prisoner before the Zealots arrived?"

He hesitated.

"No, my Moonya. I was ordered not to. By the Sunya herself."

Mother? Aillag thought.

"And the janitor? Who was he really?"

Lyzair staggered under Viumod’s weight. "Algahast. Worked here for sycles. Cleaned the sealed labs. He told me... he overheard a zentiologist whispering forbidden coordinates."

Viumod yawned.

"I wasn’t expecting the Zealots," Lyzair continued. "If I had hidden him..."

He trailed off. A tear slipped down his cheek.

"He helped me steal from the lab once," he whispered. "Bless his family."

Viumod smacked him on the head.

He tossed her off and ran.

She shrieked and chased after him, their echoes filling the corridors.

Aillag followed, amused, composing a rune in her mind to catch up.

The passage wound like a serpent through stone and time. Runes danced across dusty walls. Ornate replicas of long-dead kings stared from behind frosted glass.

Finally, they reached the great gate.

"May the sun set and rise on Neela Sol," Lyzair said, spinning his song to reseal the doors.

Aillag echoed the phrase softly.

The wall closed behind them.

And the catacombs sighed with silence once more.