Seraph In The Wall (II)

Collection: Of Greater Shadows, Chronicled by Valhel
​Nycerra moved through the moonlit streets as if she was some unseen ghost. No noise echoed from her footsteps upon the stones as she passed by a trampled loaf of bread. Through alleyways and down darkened flights of stairs, the moonlight phantom silently passed to lower levels of the Wall. Carefully to avoid the moon and the blaze of torchlight, Nycerra quickened her pace. Before her was an iron gate, illuminated with two braziers that were clutched by stone claws.

Drawing near, Nycerra whispered beneath her breath and the fires extinguished. The bars of the gate began to thrum, without breaking stride, Nycerra reached out and touched the iron with her fingertips. The thrumming stopped, soundless, the gate swung wide and shut, and once Nycerra had paced sufficiently away the braziers crackled again with fire. Nycerra now stood in an open courtyard before the yawning archways of a stone chapel.
"Sister. Is she the one?" came a voice from the shadows.
"I believe she is." smiled Nycerra.

​
After sharing in the bread and cheeses left out upon the table, Lore began to turn her attention back to the mystery of the house. Scrolls, maps, crates of old books and dusty instruments were in no short supply. Here and there were parchments and pages displaying grotesque and terrible creatures or unusual artifacts all scrawled upon with hastily written notes. A larger map was displayed on a wall near the door that Lore had been pulled through. Her eyes darted about the inked terrain in search of familiar landmarks. There was the Wall, and the valley within that opened up into a bay that allowed for oceanic commerce. The mountains fortified the city to the East and West of the Southern face of the Wall. A great plain rolled out before them that gradually became deep forest and even greater ranges in further South. And then Lore found landmarks she did not recognize. A great chasm to the West, strangely penned hills to the North, a chapel prominently featured upon the Eastern mountains, and a glacial sea that she had never before heard of. As remarkable as it is to have one's world widened, Lore was not caught up in the study of the new lands, but rather the curious and foreboding marks that had been made upon the map. There were strange sigils and runes, symbols that seemed monstrous in their undefined glyphs, and yet hauntingly familiar.
One such glyph gaped like an open maw. Black ink swept into a toothed beak or claw that was again adorned above and below with a crown of talons. Something within Lore flickered with anger and then was swiftly snuffed out by dread. Lore reached up to touch the fanged sigil, eyes wide with fear and wonder. The wind seemed to howl upon the fastened shutters of the home, but then another sound came.
Lore withdrew her reach and turned to look up the stairs. A warm chiming echoed off the stone walls down into the parlor. The golden glow of candlelight bounced through the shadows of the second floor, welcoming Lore as she ascended the steps and entered the new room. It was neater than the previous, books were shelved, scrolls sacked. Beautiful tapestry depicting a silver crescent moon drawn as a bow by a huntress hung upon a wall. Beside a bed was a quiver that held no arrows, and a long, narrow and latched box lay beneath it. The soft chiming was easier to hear as Lore drew closer to a table set against an open window. Beyond the window Lore could see the stars beginning to take their place within the wake of the moon and the black silhouette of the Wall. Looking back down to the table Lore noticed the chiming began to thrum from something beneath a shimmering shroud of grey cloth.
Cautiously she began to lift the fabric veiling the mystery. There was a glint of silver, the starlight fell within a reflection, and as Lore pulled back the shroud she beheld a craft unlike any she had before heard tale of in legend. It was a blade. Curved and resolute with cold intent, the weapon ran a sharp edge down one length and then back again for half the length. The cross-guard was spiked above the back ridge of the sword and then rolled down into a thorny basket of filigree to protect black hilt before curling upon a rounded pummel where the tang was fastened. Lore reached to lift up the weapon.
"Do you think it will remember you?"
Startled, Lore recoiled her hand and spun around to face the speaker.
A tall, thin man, robed as Lycerra, stood towering in the doorway. His hood was drawn back and he paced forward toward the thrumming blade. His grey hair was short, strange and old tattoos cuffed his neck, and though his voice was noble, his face was grim.
"I warn you, these weapons are perilous." he said flicking the shroud back over the sword with a branded hand, "They do not take kindly to strangers handling them."
Lore took noticed that the man was careful not to touch the sword as he replaced the cloth.
"Why am I here? And who are you?"
"My name is Ardenn and I am a messenger. You have already met my sister, Nycerra. We have been looking for you."
"That doesn't tell me why I'm here." said Lore as she slyly positioned herself closer to the open window.
"Very well." Adrenn's tone now turned as grim as his countenance, "We need you to bring an end to this world."