The Order - 1/3

The group’s trip from the Keeper’s Sanctum was one of solemn silence. Cailu had been kind enough to brief the Vayron’s on what to expect from the Order this time, rather than dropping them in the deep end, and their newfound allies from the Keepers of the Crystal Mind had all but affirmed his tales.

The deeper they traipsed the more on edge their Haedian escorts were. Short fur bristling and heads hung low, paws seeking out tentative, silent, purchase.

“It feels like we are to be lambs for the slaughter.” Grizz muttered under her breath. Otho gave a nervous chuckle in response, emerald eyes flickering anxiously to the shadows.

“Perhaps… This was the plan all along. Maybe the Matriach has a taste for Vayrons?”

Mari huffed, clearly not appreciating the comment. However she didn’t interject and instead let her partners continue their hushed discussion. She let her gaze wander down the dark tunnel, the crystals pitting the walls slowly changing to an ominous crimson shade. She gave Cailu an unimpressed look, falling into step with the Haedian, “Is there a particular reason that all the clans have themed mood lighting?”

Cailu gave a soft chuckle and opened his mouth to comment, however he quickly snapped his jaws shut and peered over his shoulder. Their Keeper entourage had all but melted into the shadows behind them, leaving only their newest companion, Vhaedor, still visible.

“We wish you luck, Vayrons. May you earn your audience with the Matriach.” and with that he bowed his head and darted away into the darkness.

Otho gulped, and Mari took a deep breath. This time Grizz would take the lead over Mari, fully prepared to start - and hopefully end - a fight. The scent of oxidised iron had barely a second to register in their nostrils before a weathered muzzle was unceremoniously thrust into their faces.

“The outsiders,” he hissed, as the heavy iron chains at his throat clattered threateningly. “They’re HERE!” he bellowed the last word at such volume that Grizz flinched away from him. He threw back his head, his bellow shifting into a guttural roar which was quickly picked up by a clamorous choir. The three Vayrons backed into each other on instinct with Cailu close behind them. 

As the Order chanted they corralled the group through the scarlet hued cavern, snapping at their heels to push them along. The pullers’ heads were on a swivel, dodging and sidestepping slavering maws. The chanting became an unbearable, overstimulating tangle of noise. 

With a final cry, the Order brought down the paws, signalling the puller’s arrival in the main chambers. The silence stung; no one dared breathe as the Elder descended the stony outcrop, his resonant voice booming throughout the sanctum.

“Outsiders!” he roared, each step he took was punctuated by a word, “Do. You. Walk-" He came to a stop at the bottom of the stairs, leaning in to hiss the end of his question to the Vayrons, “in the shadow of Oris?” 

Grizz swallowed, trying to wet her dry mouth. Mari carefully placed a paw on top of her companions, too afraid to speak yet wanting to remind the fluffy puller of what had previously been discussed, be confident, and true to yourself.

“No.” she gulped, her single word answer sending a ripple of hushed whispers cascading through the gathered crowd. “His ideals are not our own. We do not worship a god-” she stuttered as the Elder’s eyes narrowed, scrutinising every single crease adorning Grizz’s face.

“You lie. Your eyes speak the truth, so must your lips.”

“We believe in the ideals of Cosmosis.” Mari whispered. The Elder’s piercing gaze snapped to meet Mari’s, a low growl rising in his throat.

“They worship a traitor.” he rumbled, stepping back and rising to his full height, “THEY WORSHIP A TRAITOR!” he roared, “HERETICS WALK OUR HALLOWED HALLS!” The whispers from the crowd quickly turned to screams and roars of indignation.

Grizz steeled her expression as Otho shook beside her. The brown and white puller kept his lips tight as his body shivered against his will, trying with all his might not to let his fight or flight instinct take over.

“We are not heretics for simply having differing opinions!” Mari snapped. The Elder replied only with an indignant guffaw. He stood back on his hind legs, towering over the Vayrons and Cailu as he addressed the Order.

“THE OUTSIDERS THINK THEIR OPINION WILL SWAY ORIS’ ORDER!” the crowd barked and bayed their fury, “AND WHAT DO WE SAY TO THAT?”

And with that one simple sentence, the chanting started again. “Shira, Shira, SHIRA, SHIRA!”

Cailu reached forward, placing a hand on the back of his Vayron charge. “I hope you’re ready.” he breathed as he leaned forward to whisper to the three. “We’re certainly in for a challenge. If you can survive the Order it’s smooth sailing from here.”

The Vayrons nodded solemnly as the Elder stepped aside, his job done.