“This is it,” the woman said, stopping in front of a door with two statues standing guard on either side. The gray of their skin provided camouflage, allowing them to blend in with the stone around them.
Their expressions fierce as they stood at attention, holding spears. Most interesting was the fact that they weren’t human, nor were they any other race Tate recognized. Their faces were almost beastlike, human features mixed with animal. Their snouts were elongated, and they had furry pointed ears. Each wore a chest plate and complicated looking sandals that reached their calves.
Tate studied the statues, feeling like they were all too familiar. They gave off the same feeling as the statues in Silvain.
Dangerous,Ilith whispered.
Tate hummed an agreement. She’d only caught a brief glimpse of what those statues had been capable of since she’d been preoccupied with other things, but they’d left a deep impression on her. More importantly, she’d seen the aftermath of what they’d done. The dismembered bodies, the shell-shocked look of those who’d been present. It had been a very memorable experience.
She hadn’t thought to ever see statues like those again since their power source was rather unique.
“This is the real reason the former emperor chose this spot for the Deeps,” Ryu said, coming up beside Tate. “After seeing what the sentinels in Silvain did, I have to agree with that sentiment. Sometimes I’m surprised by the depth of creativity and sadism present in our Saviors.”
It did make you wonder whether the differences between the two groups even mattered in the end. The Saviors, Tate was coming to find, weren’t as good or squeaky clean as legend made them out to be. They’d been human, as prone to temptation as everyone else.
“You’ll have to go alone from here.” The woman sent a cautious look at the statues.
“How lovely, we get to venture into a prison cell containing a madman guarded by homicidal statues while our escort stays behind. This has all the makings of a disaster. I should have stayed and helped Night with whatever nonsense he was up to instead,” Dewdrop said sarcastically.
“As unnerving as this place is, the sentinels serve their purpose. There’s a reason no one has ever successfully escaped from this level. They can’t be bribed or threatened. They never need sleep or food. They’re the perfect guards,” Ryu said.
“So, if we get stuck on the other side, no one is going to save us.”
Ryu’s smile touched his eyes. “There is that.”
“Comforting,” Tate muttered.
“It should be fine.” Ryu paused and gave it some thought. “Probably.”
Tate and Dewdrop stared at him.
“You suck at making people feel better,” Tate finally said.
Dewdrop nodded several times in agreement.
Ryu headed toward the door, lifting his hand and murmuring several words. The door opened.
The sentinels came to life, their heads turning toward Ryu as their eyes glowed briefly. He didn’t pay them any attention as he touched his chest then pointed at Tate and Dewdrop, a couple of words said in ancient coming from his mouth.
Tate’s rusty memories allowed her to understand.
“Temporary Acceptance.”
When he was done, he gestured at the open door. “Shall we?”
“Sometimes I’d like to kick my younger self for picking a fight with you.” Dewdrop watched the door with a grim expression. “I’d have a much longer life expectancy.”
Tate moved toward the door. “No one said you had to come along.”
Dewdrop gave her a look and started after her. Sticking his hands in his pocket, he strolled in Tate’s wake as she entered the room first.
Singing floated from a man sitting in a corner. The melody off putting as the pacing constantly changed. The verses themselves were also disjointed and broken. Nothing about them making sense.
Tate caught something about a moon eating another while an octopus dragged the sun out of its orbit. Then a part about a dragon who swallowed the sea.
The singing stopped, but the man still hummed softly to himself as he rocked back and forth. He wore a thin shirt and pair of pants that couldn’t possibly have been enough to protect him from the cold and damp. His clothes hung off his body, making him seem almost skeletal. His hair was dirty and unkept, brushing his shoulders.
Dewdrop leaned toward her. “Why isn’t he locked in a cell?”
