Ever since he left the bustling streets of Luca behind, the hairs on the back of Zveran’s neck had been standing. He reshoulders his pack, adjusting to make it more comfortable, as well giving him the chance to peek behind him.
He couldn’t see anything, but that didn’t mean no one was there, and if he let them get the better of him, if they caught him by surprise, well. The thieves who trained him would be very disappointed.
"All right. As long as you're sure."
Zveran threads his fingers through Aten's fire, and walks into the chamber.
The fayth is beautiful, and terrible. Her face caught in a perpetual scream, torn in pain.
Aten drifts after him, he's not leaving Zveran alone. He...recognises her, a little, he thinks.
Of course you do, little flame. I tore you from her arms, when she pressed you into that fayth. You were too powerful, and she too hungry. The bitch was never a fit mother.
It hurts to remember, feels like everything isn't quite right in his mind but-
...Yes. I- Yes.
She's taken the memories from you before. Every time. You cannot let her find you, Aten.
The summoner bond, little flame. It's stronger than her tie to you. You have to find someone strong enough.
...He wants that to be Zveran. But-
But he knows what awaits them. Knows what lies at the end of this journey. Knows Natassa isn't wrong.
I wish I wasn't, little flame. I can feel how he cares for you. How much you care for him. But he has denied his powers his whole life. The Pilgrimmage is not enough.
Masque lunges forward, catching Zveran, and lowering them both to the ground. "Zveran!"
He doesn't know how to respond to that, not really, so he doesn't, just- hovers near Zveran and Masque, concerned.
Masque hugs Zveran closer, and waits. They want to get him out of here, but they aren't sure they can manage that.
It is some time, but eventually, Zveran stirs.
"She...she takes up a lot of energy," he murmurs.
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