Page 16 of Emerald

It’s simple though, and I know it won’t take me long to figure it out.

As I watch, one of the figures stops and sniffs the air, its head turning slowly in my direction. I freeze, willing my skin to match the dark tones of the tunnel walls. The figure's eyes, glinting faintly in the darkness, scan the area where I hide. My breath catches in my throat, and I remain motionless, praying to any entity that they do not see me.

After what feels like an eternity, the figure moves on, satisfied that nothing is amiss. I let out a silent sigh of relief, my muscles relaxing slightly. But the danger is far from over. I need to find a way out of this tunnel, away from these unknown entities, and back to safety.

The distant crashes and muffled voices continue, a constant reminder of the chaos beyond these walls. I stalk forward, careful to avoid making any noise that might attract attention. The tunnel is cramped, forcing me to move slowly, and cautiously. Every step is a calculated risk.

As I near a bend in the tunnel, I pause, listening intently. The voices are louder here, more distinct. I catch snippets of their conversation, though the words are still incomprehensible. Their tone, however, is unmistakable: urgency, frustration, and fear.

I peer around the bend, my eyes adjusting to the dim light. Ahead, the tunnel opens into a larger chamber, filled with more of the figures. They are gathered around a large, cylindrical device, that dominates the center of the dug-out cavern that had been repurposed to become a room of sorts.

Now I can get a proper look at them, I feel the first vestiges of unease begin to bubble up.

Braceaaer. A whole group of the terrible bipeds.

Surely I have not displeased the demiurge so much so that zha chooses to punish me like this.

My eyes fall on the gadget in the center of the room. Its surface is covered in blinking lights and strange symbols. There are multiple metal ropes leading from it into a part of the room I can’t see. The figures work quickly, their hands moving with practiced precision.

One of them, larger than the others, appears to be giving orders. Its voice is commanding and authoritative. The others respond with quick nods and movements, their focus entirely on the device. I watch, fascinated and horrified by their efficiency.

I need to find a way out of this place, but the presence of these figures complicates matters. I can't risk being seen, not until I know more about who they are and what they want.

I press myself against the cold, damp wall of the tunnel, my skin dimming to a muted blue to blend into the shadows. The figures move closer, their conversation becoming more distinct. I strain to catch their words, my mind racing to piece together their language.

One of them growls something to the other one, their tone urgent.

The other replies testily, its tone even.

A third one snaps at them and they shut up; it's obvious who is in charge of this little operation.

I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. These ones are clearly afraid of something. I move closer, careful not to make a sound, my eyes fixed on the group ahead. Their faces are obscured by helmets and their bodies covered in protective gear. They carry weapons, the glint of metal visible even in the dim light.

One of them turns suddenly. I freeze, holding my breath. For a moment, I think they have seen me, but they continue moving forward, their attention focused on the path ahead.

The leader growls out something to the others, their voice steady and commanding. And with that the group disperses, their footsteps echoing through the narrow passageways. I wait until the last of them has disappeared from sight before moving. My skin shifts to a deeper blue as I creep forward, keeping to the shadows. I need to find a way out of here, but I also need to understand who these people are and what they want.

I follow the leader, keeping a safe distance. They move with purpose, their steps confident despite the darkness. I stay close to the wall, my senses alert for any sign of danger. The tunnel widens slightly, and I see the leader stop to inspect a large metal door set into the rock.

They press a series of buttons on a keypad, the door hissing open with a burst of cold air. I edge closer, peering through the gap as the leader steps inside. The room beyond is filled with strange machinery, the hum of electronic devices filling the air. I slip through the door just before it closes, hiding behind a large blinking table as the leader moves deeper into the room.

I watch as they approach a table, their fingers flying over small buttons that respond by lighting up. The machines come to life, screens flickering with data and lights flashing in sequence. I move closer, my curiosity piqued. What are they doing here?

It hunches over the console, speaking into a communicator. I can barely make sense of its growls and grunts until I heard an all-too-familiar name.

Trakeldon. My skin lights up a muted red as I suck in air sharply.

No wonder they are terrified, they are about to die… what good a supplication can I give to the demiurge to avoid the same fate?

The leader grunts out a few more sentences before a voice crackles back. I’m starting to piece together the language, upset with myself that I never tried to learn it before.

The braceaaer nods, cutting the communication and turning back to the control panel. I take a step forward, my curiosity getting the better of me. I need answers, and this might be my only chance to get them.

"Who are you?" I demand, my voice low but firm. My skin shifts to a dark-hued purple of anger as I approach him slowly.

The leader spins around, their weapon drawn in an instant.

It gives me an appraising look before it sneers, "Back offwasur," they counter in a perfect rendition of my zhasie tongue, their eyes narrowing behind their visor, freezing me dead in my tracks.

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