Page 27 of Shifter King
It was gone. Everything. The sculptures. The dais. The mosaics. The relief carvings. The paintings. Centuries and centuries of history and tradition and art. Gone and sealed beneath a slick seamless marble floor.
The emptiness took her breath and strength away. No markings indicated where the Tue-Rah's dais and pedestal and pillars had once stood. Yet the gut-wrenching twist and seizing of her heart told her at once that this was where it had been. A massive circular glass monument with strange distorted forms sat where the dais and pedestal for the Tue-Rah had once been. A large sign stood before it.
Naatos swore as AaQar broke pace, his face ashen.
"Udral?" QueQoa gasped, halting.
WroOth shot forward, circling the monument.
Amelia turned her gaze back to it. The forms were strange. Somewhat familiar and yet— cold electric terror swept through her when she realized what had been preserved within that glass.
THE MONUMENT
Amelia stared at the monument in horror, not wanting to believe what she saw. But this was no trick of the mind. No illusion.
The twisted burned forms inside were people. Vawtrians.
Whoever had done this had buried them in something like molten glass. Those last attempts at healing had been just enough to keep the bodies from fully incinerating but had left them trapped in an unrelenting prison. Not just warriors but men and women of all ages, young and aged.
AaQar circled the monument. Sometimes he touched the faces and murmured names until he stopped in front of one older man whose burned and shattered face had been distorted in an eternal scream. "Elinar, the Blood Rook," he said softly.
QueQoa bowed his head, his shoulders slumped and his eyes closed. WroOth circled in the opposite direction, faster, eyes hard and never leaving the dead encased in glass.
Naatos had not moved. He only stared. Thunderclouds of rage billowed from him, yet there was no visible trace other than his focus and the way he did not blink.
No wonder there were hardly any people in this place. To even be within sight of this monument—her stomach lurched. She tore her gaze from the monument and stepped closer to the sign.
Though the words were legible, she could scarcely focus on them. Something about the Order of the Darmoste Accord.
Soft footsteps sounded behind her.
An Abliato approached, hands folded before himself. He moved with such grace that though his robes were violet striped, none ever seemed out of alignment. He had feathered wings that moved in and out of visibility, seeming to pulse to some beat she could not hear. His aura was pale blue. "You must be from far away or quite sheltered if this moves you in this way, woman."
"I—" She struggled to find the words. Chaos pounded in her ears. Closing her eyes, she swallowed hard. Her stomach churned.
"Don't be so distressed. It is good you brought your skinchangers to see this. But remember, they don't feel pain like us. Oh. I have made an assumption. Forgive me. These are yours, are they not?"
She managed to nod weakly, finding the imperiousness of her former act much harder to draw upon. "It was time to see."
"If they act out of line, punishment will be swift. Any skinchanger who draws blood, well—" He gestured toward the top of the open-air arena walls. Small red lights highlighted what were either cameras or sensors. "If they draw blood or if they try to shift, charges will be delivered. And if they do not stop then, they will be destroyed. The potentate shall not reimburse you for the loss. Even for ones as strong as these."
She shook her head, raising her hand as if she could wave the words away. What was she even supposed to say? The blood thundered louder. Even with her elmis bound, there was too much pressing in on her. "No. It's—They are—"
The Abliato stepped closer, his head inclined to the side. "You are not from one of our great cities, are you? You are from the wilds? The outer territories?" He held his arm out as if to support her. The sunlight caught on his many rings. "Do you need some water?"
"I have come to speak with friends. It's been a long journey. That is all you need to know." She lifted her chin. Cracks had started to form in her vision. She couldn't even look on the monument any longer. It was as if all those screams, all of the dying might reach her at once. "It is not uncommon for travelers to come here, is it, Conservator Getarno?"
"Ah, so you do know me?" The thin smile broke over his face.
"Of course I do. Who does not?" Images swam behind her eyes. The Ki Valo Nakar moaned somewhere deep inside. "It is simply my first time to see this monument. And theirs." She managed a stiff gesture with her right arm.
Rage. Rage. So much rage. And sorrow. Questions too. She swallowed hard. They all seemed to be miles away. As if she and Conservator Getarno stood alone in this open-air arena above a great desert with the winds howling about them.
"It is an impressive sight. It speaks to the knowledge of our forebears centuries ago, and it takes the breath away."
"Yes…" It took every breath of will power she had not to teeter into the cavernous abyss of emotions that raged around her. Or to collapse inward into the mass she had drawn from those entrapped in that glass.
She grounded herself in the moment, digging her fingernails into her palms as she pushed all her energy into her own barriers. They could not break. She could not collapse. Could not be useless. Her family needed answers. Answers and vengeance. She pulled in another breath. "Tell me what happened."
