in tenebris est veritas.
She retrieves her dagger again, this time pointed at the noise down the corridor. Her eyes do not stray from her search of the shadows, though her elbow is bent at that familiar hesitating angle. A rat or a wyrm would have been an easy hunt, but the weight at the pit of her stomach suggested Deimos’s instinct might be right. A gentle gulp bobs in her throat as she adjusts her grip on the little blade.
In truth, it is just as useful as any divine power Chaele might have access to; for all the pretense of flesh-carved runes and symbolic masks and esoteric appearances, there is little potence in her magical ability. Still, it is all she has ever known. Perhaps she cannot fathom the sheer scope of the power Deimos is capable of harnessing, but still her voice is stretched into the shape of a smile as she replies in kind. “Magic.”
The corridor arcs to one side as the three hunters progress slowly, cautiously, breathlessly forward, allowing the unseen creature’s long shadow to dance into view long before its physicality can be known. Chaele can only search the dim for their winged scout and hope it reveals some advantage soon-- but before it can, the mysterious scraping sound whines into an idle but iconic noise.
“Me-ea-ea-eat…”
A sharp intake of air is all that signals her recognition of it. The emotion in her quick-beating heart tastes like dread, but there is a duality of doubt and discipline that leaves the metallic tang of panic in its wake. This is a test to be mastered, and one she had not prepared for. But as she slides toward the nearest wall and presses herself in stealth against it, all she can do is hold her breath and wait for instinct to guide her.
In truth, it is just as useful as any divine power Chaele might have access to; for all the pretense of flesh-carved runes and symbolic masks and esoteric appearances, there is little potence in her magical ability. Still, it is all she has ever known. Perhaps she cannot fathom the sheer scope of the power Deimos is capable of harnessing, but still her voice is stretched into the shape of a smile as she replies in kind. “Magic.”
The corridor arcs to one side as the three hunters progress slowly, cautiously, breathlessly forward, allowing the unseen creature’s long shadow to dance into view long before its physicality can be known. Chaele can only search the dim for their winged scout and hope it reveals some advantage soon-- but before it can, the mysterious scraping sound whines into an idle but iconic noise.
“Me-ea-ea-eat…”
A sharp intake of air is all that signals her recognition of it. The emotion in her quick-beating heart tastes like dread, but there is a duality of doubt and discipline that leaves the metallic tang of panic in its wake. This is a test to be mastered, and one she had not prepared for. But as she slides toward the nearest wall and presses herself in stealth against it, all she can do is hold her breath and wait for instinct to guide her.
