FSE

Furry search engine

formerly SoFurry search engine

Chapter 51

He was circling around the city for what felt like an eternity, as if he would be mapping the layout of Warfang exactly like the first time he arrived in the city, after all a scout has to know his surroundings to be able to take advantage of his surroundings. Yet it was not sense of duty that was driving his steps, he kept walking with the hood of his cloak stretched across the head, hands so far in the pockets that it was almost a wonder his outfit could fit his arms that deep without being some camouflaged, voracious maws.

His head was a tormented mess where thoughts were rattling around like rocks rolling down a landslide, Amela's last words about finding relations, similarities, anything you can feel to be familiar, only added more confusing fuel to his changed life after visiting his home village.

He couldn't do this alone, he wasn't born to be great, his whole life as a scout stood in complete opposition to the fame that ancestral magic will undoubtedly bring him.

The harder he concentrated on it the more his chin dropped, to the point where his eyes were looking right in between his moving feet as if trying to find an answer there.

Part of him kept noting that there was always Hope with him, more realistically than ever, yet just as much as he believed she would want to help him, he doubted she truly knew how. She bestowed this gift on him out of fear, the action might have been dipped in concern but in the end it was dread that ruled her motives and all of it might just as well be a chain of coincidences.

Not to mention that she was a being from what could be the beginnings of the world, a seeker for recluse that only adapted to the reality because he, for some unexplained reason, kept holding to the silly symbol he received in his youngster days.

The rules of scouting apply to daily life as well, whenever you discover a new creature, trail or enemy, the first thing you do is to find someone who could possibly share some insight on the matter, jumping blindly into action was the worst thing one could do, if that one planned to live longer than the current assignment that is.

And as much as he respected Hope, he didn't think they were capable of finding a common understanding that would help ease his mind here. He needed to find inspiration among those who traveled a similar path.

But where to find someone like that?

As his mind was tormented by these thoughts his legs kept on moving and it was after one such stride that his eyes spotted draconic feet appearing in front of his vision, yet his clouded mind was too slow to dig himself out from the hurricane of thoughts in time for his limbs to react.

He bumped into a female, draconic frame.

"Excuse me!"

He heard a voice as he bounced back, ungluing himself from the scaly body and immediately raising his hands in the air defensively, his head remaining low, dipped down in a respectful bow.

"I apologize, I didn't pay attention where I was going"

A cheerful, friendly giggle sounded in response.

"We all got lost after the recent events, but eventually we will find our way again and since we all meet on the steps of this place then I'm pretty sure we don't need more hints as to where to look for guidance. We all make mistakes but we gotta power through it!" another pleasant laugh followed

"Ancestors guide you my friend!"

"Ancestors..." his voice trailed off when he raised his head, finding himself on the steps leading to the courtyard of the temple, the respectable building that went through unjustified horrors sprouted before his eyes like a magical tree

"...guide you" he breathed the two words with the last gust of breath left in the lungs, ears flattening on the skull, the jerk throwing the hood down from his head

"Your heart skipped a beat! What happened? You've seen some nice butt?"

A soft burn filled his chest when the excited voice resounded in his head, image of a kneeling Hole flashed before his eyes, she crouched next to a hole in the fence of her invisible garden, a small shovel in her hands, exposed fur dirty and glistening with sweat, her thin shirt wrapped in a knot under her ample breasts, revealing more of her body to the sun. A head of a wolf was sticking out from the dug out hole.

"A building? That's what got your blood pumping?" she cocked her head "You really need to get your priorities straight"

"Not just any building" Hunter whispered reverently "This is where the temple where the corruption started, where many other things had their beginnings" he ran a thumb over his burning chest, blinking when the warm touch of the medallion poked his finger, his focus lingering on Hope for a moment

He didn't expected to see her working, what he did expect though was her taking the advantage of any pose and situation that would make her more appealing to a male eye.

And Hope had a figure of a goddess that even dirt, grime and sweat looked alluring on her.

"What are you doing?"

"What?" she shrugged, a tip of her matted mane flopped down in between her eyes like a numb arm "I'm just inviting some friends for lunch"

"Those are predators you're leading into the village, village where are the elderly and children alike"

He saw her grinning lustfully.

"Don't you worry, I'll give them something very nice to eat" she ran her palm down her neck, making the thin, wet fur bend gracefully out of the way, revealing succulent skin beneath "I might put them on the waiting list though if you decide to take a bite. Favorites get priority"

Hunter sighed, he had no idea how she doesn't get tired of this blunt advances he rejected so many times already.

"I must decline your generous offer"

"So desperate for some spiritual euphoria?" Hope giggled, cradling the sticking out canine head tightly, mushing her breasts against the excited snout that spat a long, red tongue out "I can also scream some prayers if you'll play your cards right"

The scout shook his head, stepping up the staircase that led to the temple's courtyard, he stuffed his hands deep inside his pockets, minimalizing the chances of being discovered with his new found powers if something unexpected would happen.

And this notion of self preservation wasn't a total obsessive hoax as it turned out. Despite everything that had happened in Warfang lately and especially considering from where all this tragedy originated from, there were still a lot of citizens walking back and forth, he wasn't a common visitor here, but even he noticed that the numbers of souls here was bigger than usually.

In their time of need it seemed like everyone sought the assistance of those they could relate to.

That thought made the ears on his head stand stiffly upright, ancestral magic or not he wasn't alone in his struggle of finding one's peace of mind, there were many like him all around, it absolutely didn't matter what was the trigger that obscured his sense of purpose, all these people here were gathered for the same reason.

Among them and the Ancestors he can find understanding.

He sped up his pace without even realizing that his legs added additional strength to the movements, his step was light, so light that he could be hovering above the ground.

Not even the ironic laughter could hold him back, laughter that originated from a deep sense of hypocrisy, all his life he pretended that the symbolism of his people's ideology was a fool's errand and yet he is here, rushing towards the single place that was a one, huge symbol in itself.

A place from where the horror that still eats at people's souls originated from. Also from what he remembered the temple was locked after the Corruption took hold of the building since the one it touched first was resting there.

He didn't see the Seeker when the cloud that confused Warfang's minds was dissipated, but he heard enough rumors and small talks to understand that age the magic kept in check was catching up with the old priest finally, there was no one allowed inside besides a few of his loyal followers.

It was a silent consensus where even hushed whispers about the Seeker's incoming passing were a crime against one's soul.

But something had to change.

The citizens he passed on his way still possessed that troubled veil in their eyes, an unfortunate afterglow of a traumatic memory that only time could truly heal, and even that with luck since long lasting scars were far more probable. However he could find a shy glimmer of happiness, joy and relief among all that depressing pollution, a moment of forgetfulness that united the people against the dark, bloody past.

Whether it was only wishful thinking didn't matter as much as the perspective of finding some manner of support.

His hands jumped out of the pockets as he got close to the widely opened door, he quickly dropped them along the sides of his body, not before the smell of incense and cleanliness struck his nostrils, followed by a brief, barely noticeable stench of death and decay.

The walls still remembered the Darkness.

The tips of his fingers heated up, yellow sparks danced from the edges of his claws. He quickly clenched his palms, sinking the blades into his own hands, he stood strong and confident despite the rapid pounding of his heart, acting as if nothing has happened and silently praying that nobody noticed this unusual light.

Nobody paid him any mind.

He let out a deep, quiet breath of relief that made his entire chest sulk, turning the cloak he was wearing into an overgrown cloth more fit for a scarecrow than a breathing cheetah.

"There is familiar power in this place" his vision got dark for a second, he expected to see another sexually appealing image of Hope flash before his eyes that usually followed after he heard her speak

This time there was nothing but darkness as if he would just blink with his eyes.

"Dangerous, strong power. You should not be here Hunter, you are not ready for it yet"

The scout's ears flickered, tuning themselves to the surroundings. He had experience when it came to sensing danger, he wasn't right in every occasion naturally, but if there was something special about a creature or a place his sensitive instinct of a scout could easily target something out of the ordinary.

He was even accustomed to sensing magic, not as precise as dragons, but it was enough to get a meager map of someone's elemental potential if it outstretched beyond the typical borders.

There was no such thing here.

"I sense no dangerous magic" he replied calmly, his hands though still made sure that all of his equipment was where it was supposed to be

"Magic is not the only power in the world that can topple bastions" Hope's voice was unnervingly serious, there was no notch of frivolity in it, something that he didn't think she was capable of silencing

It made him think that the reason why he doesn't see her as she speaks is also of her own doing. After all she was rather fluent in creating illusions.

"Remember the little, sad story I told you about the downfall of the..." she snorted "Blessed Ones?"

His eyes sparkled in realization.

"It's Faith"

"Faith, obsession, lust, call it however you like, this place is the center of it, it reeks of it and it better not be the desire to taste some of it that brought you here. You don't want its gaze on you Hunter, you will collapse under the weight, there is already a cult here and you don't want to stand against it. I ended turned into a round rock and I hate to think what would happen to you, but let me remind you that there is no otherworldly, strong creature around that could channel your spirit into anything"

"A cult?"

"Not the bloodsucking, orgy evil type so calm down. A community is a better word maybe? I don't know, name it however you want, a thing that unites a lot of people together with a prominent leader on top. Whatever it is you don't want to disturb it because when this thing breaks you will wish to go back to dealing with corruptive crystals"

There was a break in her monologue, as if she would be taking a deep breath before a heart breaking revelation.

"Your powers will bring you fame, but everything needs time, you as well. Leave and don't draw the attention of this audience"

"Leave?" Hunter mumbled quietly, being torn between protest and obedience, to hear Hope truly worrying about him was as strange as it was refreshing, at least he could relate to her motives even though he didn't quite understand how this religious side compared to the worship she was given in her times, back then she was one of the few that wielded magic, here the magical potency was plentiful and common, not in cheetahs, yes, but even that wouldn't catch the attention of most of the dragons, he was sure of it.

Excluding that inner desire to find his way in the lands of confusion and pressure, there was that specific curiosity keeping him in place, curiosity of a scout who was capable of noting the tiny dots of circumstance tying events together with a faint string that many would take for simple coincidence.

"I'm all for grabbing life by the throat and cherishing the day, but sometimes it's better to take things slow"

"How can I ignore a cult forming in Warfang that could threaten the city?"

"The city will be fine" the medallion in his chest stabbed him painfully "Look, when things go to shit don't say that I didn't warn you, alright?"

The sharp pain poking his chest was gone.

"Hope?" he blinked, running a thumb over his clothes, touching the spot where the symbol was

It was as cold as in the times where it was still devoid of life and pinned to his cloak.

Hope's presence disappeared.

He stood idly in place, bewildered even more than he already was, for an ancient creature Hope acted really childish in this case, disappearing as if offended by his hesitation to obey her wishes without question. While there was a chance that her traumatized soul, if trauma was even a thing for creatures like her that is, simply collapsed under the weight of depressive similarities, he really doubted that it might be truly the case.

She wouldn't lock herself behind an illusion that covered her from the sight of every sentient cheetah in the village she stayed in if loneliness would be an issue.

She vanished a second time and in contrary to what she might think it only made him more determined to push onwards, after all if there is something going on in the Temple that unnerved a breathing Ancestor than he can't simply ignore it.

He just couldn't be happy with simply possessing such power. Not after Warfang being overwhelmed by Corruption, if he would succumb to the temptation then all the people he killed could as well be considered as victims of murder since their deaths would amount to nothing.

Hope's warnings might have some truth in them, but it was his duty as a citizen of Warfang to spot danger before it grows to the size of the previous catastrophe and in all honesty, if there was something really here that made Hope nervous then he has to find it.

"Breathtaking isn't it?" Hunter felt a gentle brush against his arm, followed by an even more delicate voice

Without even noticing it a mole appeared next to him, dressed in the simple, yet elegant robes of the temple's caretaker, on top of his head he wore a gold bracelet with plenty of openings where lit flames were. The holes melded with lenses that strengthened and directed the light in front of him, giving that necessary boost for the member of the race of inventors.

"A sight worthy of the finest craftsmanship I must say, excuse my boldness. The Ancestors still reach to us and it makes my heart weep in joy when I see us responding to the call. I understand it must be quite the shock for a newcomer especially"

Hunter's ears flattened, his dutiful ego of a scout feeling ashamed by being discovered so easily.

"Is it so obvious?"

The mole laughed merrily.

"You are one of the few who doesn't smile my friend"

"The temple lately didn't give us much reason to smile"

The cleric nodded sadly.

"That is true unfortunately, together in our modest circle we thought that the dark events of the past might have ended the belief in the Ancestors entirely, voices of them betraying us were not whispers after all. There was a chance people might have stopped believing in the divine completely"

That would be a foolish thing to do, of course he understood that majority of the world's population will never have the opportunity to meet a breathing Ancestor as he did, but to completely discard magic and the fact that there might be some godly power out there that watched over the world would be a terribly reckless notion.

He once felt the same way and life reminded him quite bluntly that he was merely a simple cat.

However even after meeting Hope his view on life and how it is dictated by faith, traditions and beliefs didn't change all that much. It still felt...hindering to dictate your entire existence to the will of dead gods and artificial symbols, especially now when he learned that the symbols you believe in might have been something entirely else in life, like Avalar.

Yet he no longer thought that it was all unnecessary, ignoring a magical aspect in a world where magic is as plentiful as water was even more reckless than believing that you can topple the divine. It was good to believe in something, it was good to have motivation, whatever shape it might be, but it is crucial to not overstep it.

Everything needs moderation.

"Would it truly be that bad if people started to believe in themselves?"

Hunter could feel the mole's enthusiastic aura getting chocked out by his question as if he would take a huge hammer to the stomach.

"Cast out the Ancestors? Entirely? The ones that created the civilization as we know it now?" the cleric shook his head "Times are troubling and full of confusion these days, I understand that, but if we throw away our beliefs my friend we will be no different than our feral kind. We need moral guidance, without it nature alone would run its course and instinct is a brutal, heartless advisor"

The priest gestured at the crowd of people.

"Look at them friend. Does this picture look vile to you?"

He had to admit, it was nice to see the citizens peaceful, but he would not have to be tormented by guilt and images of an almost stripped nude Blessed One if everything would be so ideal as the cleric claims.

"No, it does not. However The Seeker also didn't look hostile when he believed to be fulfilling the will of the Ancestors"

"We are mortal, many of us will never have the opportunity to taste wonders that a purple dragon does, normal dragons don't get a chance like that so what are the odds that a mole will?" the cleric shook his head "If our determination would be as strong as the Seeker's faith we would all fall for the same trap. It ended in tragedy, yes, but the intentions were noble. The Seeker unites us my friend despite the tragedy he is the one that is the conduit between the mortal world and the divine and our sanity, what are the odds that all this happy faces are simply a coincidence? A coincidence that tied perfectly with the Seeker's recovery"

Hunter's ears perked up.

"The Seeker recovered?"

The mole smiled reverently.

"Yes, partially, his state is still critical, you might speak with him if you still have doubts, he is right here, just follow the people my friend" the priest brushed his arm gently as he prepared to leave

"Try and you will see for yourself. The Seeker is what is holding Warfang together, without him we would be lost"

The mole bowed respectfully.

"May the Ancestors guide you my friend, find peace. I will pray for you and our Seeker to guide you and the rest of us in his final time"

With those words the cleric left him alone, his pupils followed the robed mole for a while, he didn't know why really, but he had a sense that he might be developing paranoia because even the priest seemed suspicious to him, after all out of all these creatures here, the cleric approached him.

And as his eyes followed the mole he became quite certain that the cleric wasn't seeking any other newcomer. The robed figure simply disappeared behind the crowd.

Hunter unclenched his fists with a trembling sigh, sparks of gold magic twinkled from the tips of his fingers, cascading down onto the floor like glimmering sand.

He felt like a chest that many try to pry open, each conversation and look making him feel as if people purposefully poke him to get inside the treasure he was guarding. The idea alone should feel ridiculous, no one besides the Guardians knows what he is capable of and the risk was minimal that they spread any rumors about it.

He was beginning to feel alienated. His chase for understanding and any sort of familiarity ironically driving him more and more into the recluse side that Hope so much embraced.

He hated that idea as much as having everyone drop on their knees before him.

Blessed One that was afraid of people.

Hunter hissed, rubbing his aching forehead, he was so conflicted about it all that he had troubles forming logical thoughts. At least there was a small positive in all of this, he no longer wondered why he came here since he doubted that anyone besides the divine can assist him here.

They will at least listen without judgment and that alone was good enough.

He started to walk, but instead of approaching any specific statue his limbs seemed to carry him in only one sensible direction, following in the footsteps of the pilgrims that came here. He did not know why, but he almost felt compelled to follow the same destination like the rest of the populace, whether in a role of a logical guardian or a desperate he could not tell.

What he knew though was the fact that the cleric wasn't exaggerating when he said that the Seeker had a strange authority over Warfang, he too, while not being much religious, felt that certain pull, a pull that was a mixture of curiosity, fear and need.

Eventually the flow of people slowed down, the smiling, relaxed snouts and faces turning into a trickle, it became more slower as he went onwards until he found the reason for such a seeming slowdown. He stopped, joining the pilgrims in a relatively long line, from this point the amount of people leaving the way they came was extremely slow, especially since some of them took longer than others.

Nobody was complaining though, everyone waiting for their chance, patience and eagerness stuck in a prolonged, unsolvable battle. Even though lines are generally a very annoying thing the visitors of the temple around him didn't seem to be bothered by it in the slightest, quite the contrary, they seemed to enjoy it, pleased with the opportunity to claim some manner of purpose after all this dark past.

The positive, hopeful energy was so thick around here that he could cut it with his own claw if he wanted to.

And in all honesty it was addicting and so, so refreshing after the last events that befallen on him to feel some manner of peace.

The line shrunk steadily, once slower and once faster, almost to the point that it felt like a whole eternity would pass before he even made a single step forward. Yet, despite the sluggish pace his limbs and patience weren't getting weaker, the perspective of meeting the Seeker infusing him with so much positive energy that worries of tomorrow and today were wiped out completely.

He found it strange, he was approaching the mole that many would consider a scapegoat, the one responsible for everything that happened, many of those around him lost their loved ones and the one that brought it on top of them was somewhere out there, so close, just at the end of this very line and yet no one showed any sign of aggression.

He didn't know what it was, it was very difficult to describe this feeling but it felt like that any manner of aggression would not only be unacceptable in this place, but also would shatter any sense of unity Warfang was built on. Civilizations are built on milestones and it really felt like they were participating in one and are at the brink of it, and how this milestone will be concluded will determine the future of their world as a whole.

And he couldn't decide if this was a good thing, sudden change was an unwelcome event as the life of a scout taught him, sometimes it was better to let things decline instead of desperately trying to save them. It was Nature.

He felt an unusual sting of guilt in his heart after thoughts like that, a guilt that was seen not only by him but also glared upon by those around. Out of nervous caution he scanned the surroundings, sensing as if he was in some manner of a spotlight where everyone could see him and his thoughts.

He became so nervous about it all that he thought that even the stony eyes of the Ancestors statues were giving him condemning stares.

It would probably be a very bad idea to say that perhaps it would be better for everyone, since they already dealt with loss, to allow the Seeker to pass away after the events in the temple. The shock of tragedy was already upon them and any other catastrophe would not have the same effect anymore.

Now when Warfang clung to hope it will be a very traumatizing moment when the time comes to finally separate the city from it.

And he knew it quite literally just how hard it is to resist Hope.

When it was finally his turn to lay eyes on the Seeker he no longer was surprised that hope is all what holds it all together.

There were only a handful few who had the permission to visit the Seeker when he was recovering in the temple, besides several loyal followers only the Guardians and the caretakers together with their escorts had the privilege. It goes without saying that he didn't belong to any of the group, so in fact it was his first time laying eyes on the head cleric after the disaster.

And he was glad for it since if this is how recovery looks like then he didn't want to know what the mole was going through before that.

The Seeker was sitting on a specific chair with wheels, however to him, due to its size it looked like a small, mobile throne. The wheelchair looked advanced, like the moles would rip out a train's engine and tinkered with it long enough so it could house one old creature. The whole thing was a pumping machine of constantly moving pistons and huffing quietly pipes, two massive crystals cracking with energy were powering the whole thing. The chair also had a pair of handles stretching out the back, most likely an emergency solution to move the chair if the mechanism stops working or the Seeker won't have the strength to operate it.

Because it was the old mole who was the driver, there were no pedals or any other thing under his feet besides a small supporting metallic branch that served as a traditional support for the old legs. The throne was most likely controlled by a pair of levers that protruded from the end of both armrests, placed perfectly so the old mole could grip them in the natural position of his arms.

Hunter didn't wonder for long why the steering mechanisms were pinpointed to the armrests instead of the legs, it became quite clear that the hands are most likely the only thing that the mole can still control on his own.

The Seeker looked like he just crossed the death's door but decided to turn back at the last moment as if he would forget to take something with him. Death didn't let him back, but once you cross that doorstep, you leave something behind and in the mole's case it was basically all of his vitality.

The priest didn't look old, he looked ancient, his hands were thin and bony, the claws the moles used to dig were gone completely, without them the fingers were barely different than bones the Apes toss the Death Hounds as treats. The only other visible part was the face, crumbling and dry, coat white and so thin that it could easily be taken for a short mustache than actually fur. Patches of skin that stood out were wrinkled, almost falling off, only stopped by the clearly visible jawbones. Even though the face was ancient the mole still possessed enough strength to keep it aloft, bent to the side and hanging lower, but enough to maintain eye contact with whoever he spoke.

If he spoke that is.

The rest of the body was covered underneath the pretty, spectacular robe of a Seeker, yet it no longer nicely embraced the mole's frame. The material was hanging down his body like rags, being far too big for the mole to wear. A view that effectively worked on imagination, especially when you got the chance to see the Seeker in his previous incarnation during the corruption phase, where the robe looked as if it was intentionally made just for him.

Now it was like a curtain, and the body beneath most likely nothing more but thin skin and bones.

A saying came to his mind, the one when you are tired and friends say that you look like a corpse. The Seeker took that saying quite literally.

The heavy sight of the Seeker fell on him as the last soul in front moved away from the throne. He shivered involuntary under that milky gaze, out of fear than respect, he couldn't cast the thoughts about the mole digging his way out of the grave so he couldn't stop but think just how starved his looks was, craving for some fresh blood and marrow.

His fresh blood and marrow.

The old hand beckoned him forward, the simple move seemed to cause much stress to the old mole, to the point that Hunter expected the arm to snap under the pressure.

"Approach pilgrim" a female mole caretaker invited him forward with a welcoming wave, a broad, warm smile stretching her lips "We all are the same under the watchful gaze of the Ancestors"

Hunter held a doubtful cough back with great difficulty.

If you only knew priestess how wrong you are, if you only knew.

He obeyed the invitation, he didn't really know why he was so stressed as he approached the Seeker, maybe it was because the mole's eyes seemed as if they were looking right through him, spotting every secret, the feeling was so strong that he had difficulties keeping his hands at bay, disallowing them to clench the chest to put more cover onto the mended with his flesh symbol.

Or maybe it was the fact that with each new step he became more and more confused as to why he actually was here, why he actually waited so long in that line, suddenly the sense of duty was no longer that important.

It was not it that led him here.

He felt as if he would be walking straight into the maw of the Corruption Hope's magic helped him to cleanse previously. That dead like gaze of the Seeker didn't help the matters in any way.

Hunter could feel his feline instinct kicking in, ears began to flicker and eyes dart from side to side in search of an exit he will use if he decides to bolt away from here.

"You look troubled pilgrim" Brill spoke, his voice was quiet, rough and rasping, an almost perfect reflection of the state of his body

Not inviting at all.

But then the gloomy, dead-like stare of the Seeker started to change, becoming more alive and intelligent with each passing second after the sound of the raspy voice began to fade away.

Hunter blinked several times, making sure that he was not seeing things, every time his eyelids opened though, the strength in those mole's eyes grew more prominent, being the storage for all the vitality that couldn't be found in the body no longer.

All of a sudden the first impression of the mole being almost dead felt like a complete delusion. He met a living Ancestor already so maybe it was why he didn't feel totally overwhelmed by the Seeker's presence, but he couldn't deny that the priest possessed some divine, warm authority that made him no longer doubt why people hold him in so high regard.

He was a more civilized, today version of Hope.

"Isn't being troubled the main reason why people come to the temples?" Hunter retorted back, only a moment too late realizing that he was rather rude about it by answering the priest with a question of his own

His tail made an uncomfortable flick, unsure from where this Cloudas-like bluntness came from precisely. Was he unconsciously portraying the Seeker as the villain knowing what his devotion wrought on Warfang, pairing that with Hope's words about cult worship? Or was it something completely different?

He had no idea, but whatever it was he was certain he never felt anything like this before. When his perspective on the world and its people have changed so drastically that from being a quiet, invisible scout he was turning into a royal high guard?

He didn't know precisely, but his thumb rubbing against his forefinger, sprinkling faint, gold and otherworldly dust was some manner of a hint.

"Yes. But many know what causes this troubled state. Can you say the same?" Brill breathed heavily, despite his crumbled look, he had no troubles properly articulating the words, even though the way he spoke was slow, there was a manner of confidence and power in the speech, same one that hid behind his eyes

Hunter's ears flattened, his breath hacked, he felt as if he would receive a punch directly into the stomach. As it turned out he's not the only one who can be blunt.

He didn't know how it could be possible, when even the dragons didn't notice anything different about him, nevertheless when it came to the Seeker he had this strange feeling that the mole knew that there is someone else with them here.

Or perhaps that was merely a simple guess that could be easily deduced by someone who spends majority of his life surrounded by all sorts of folks, especially when he, as a visitor, had difficulties with containing his confusion.

An evidence supported by the fact that a caretaker noted his bewilderment with ease, still, as logical as it may sound, it didn't make him any more calmer around the mole.

"I'm not sure" Hunter replied honestly, deciding that there was no point in lying since the Seeker would see right through it

Brill heaved heavily, his throat rumbling like rusty gears. The lively eyes gave the cheetah in front of him an intense look.

"You're the boy that acts as Warfang's eyes. I've heard of your exploits, young feline always in search for danger threatening his city"

The loyal religious servants that accompanied the Seeker twitched anxiously, trying very hard to not glare on him hatefully as they prepared for his act of aggression they were certain will come.

"I didn't come here to infiltrate your community" Hunter explained, once again being honest, his sharp eyes taking notes of the priests around the mole, who seemed docile, yet their body language showed that they were ready to jump into the fire after the Seeker if need be

"My community?" a rough cough left the mole's throat, it was so vile that it shook the priest's entire frame

Yet the assistants didn't react, as if already used to it.

The spasm was a short one, the body returned to its resting position quickly, leaving only the bony fingers rattling against the armrests, tapping like teeth of a laughing skull.

"I do not own anything. This community is as much mine as it is yours my boy" the tapping fingers stretched out with a disturbing crack as if they would finally give up on the last strands of life holding them together "It was a tragic lesson to learn"

The eyes shone with a hard to describe smile, Hunter could sense them reading the inside of his soul, yet he didn't flinch because there was something familiar about that look, if the creature in front of him wouldn't be a mole he would easily say that he was exchanging glances with Spyro. There was something unnaturally friendly about that look, he didn't know if he was imagining it or not, but he could sense Hope's energy radiating from the Seeker.

A far more welcoming energy than his own, like rays of the warm sun rising above the freezing hills of Dante's Freezer.

The mole's Hope was different than his.

He really had a hard time keeping his hands in check, holding them back from touching the medallion on his chest was quite a feat, especially when he really wanted to make the comparison if the essence he feels from the mole is not just his imagination.

Whatever recovery people were speaking about was not about the body, it was about the spirit and he was certain that some more sensitive people were sensing that welcoming change in the mole's soul.

It's not like this strange sensation it completely alien either, Brill had this aura already, yet in the past you could also pinpoint his opponents easily, even among his own clergy, that disagreed with him to put it mildly. Today it seemed like there was no opposition any longer and he couldn't tell if that was a good thing or not.

After all he wouldn't want people rallying against Spyro, he wouldn't want them ushering chaos to the world. The Seeker, just like the purple dragon, was an anchor, applying a manner of stability, perhaps a more prominent one since he was just a mole, a creature everyone could relate to.

Hunter wasn't afraid even to say that the head priest was an idol. Something that was troubling considering the mole's advanced age, without appointing someone to take his mantle the followers of the temple will be lost.

Warfang will be lost.

"You came here seeking a path, not realizing that you already had crossed the decisive crossroad. Everything else is just a stone on your way that can only stub your toes, you will have to decide on your own if the discomfort you feel is enough for you to stop or not" Brill continued his lecture, despite his lively eyes it was obvious that his body was tired, each spoken word becoming more weaker and raspier as the conversation continued

If it could be called a conversation to begin with, because to Hunter it felt like a lecture where the mole is reading his soul like an open book.

"Terrible lessons are lessons still" the mole coughed roughly, far harder than before, a dead like silence had befallen on the people in the line behind the cheetah, the spasm was so strong that even the loyal caretakers intervened, offering the old mole a bit of water he do eagerly drank

One of the priests opened his mouth and Hunter was sure he was about to say that the Seeker needs rest and the conversation is over, yet the words were frozen in the cleric's throat by a bony finger rising in a silencing gesture.

"We are mortal my boy, we can be granted grace but we must remember that we are just dust to the grand forces of our universe. Oblivious to the schemes of the world, with only specks to give us any clue about our purpose, one such warning is painted on you" the Seeker's eyes dropped down, at first Hunter thought that he had fallen asleep, yet suddenly he felt a warm tingle in his fingers

His eyes dropped, seeing tentacles of brilliant gold magic twirling around his fingers, embracing them like protective snakes, licking instead of biting, but being snakes nevertheless.

To make things worse he was sure that the Seeker saw them too.

Hunter balked, rising his eyes, throat pulsing, ready to speak in his defense, but then he met the eyes of the mole, eyes that were as much alive as ever, evidence enough that the mole was not sleeping, but observing the dancing snakes. Hunter felt fear when he realized that he was exposed, but the respectful, yet demanding stare of the Seeker silenced him.

"Ancestors do not hold favorites" Brill intoned cleanly, without rasp or weakness, just like he would be citing

Reading.

And once again Hunter realized that it was his own soul that gave him the quotes.

What was fright not so long ago morphed into total dread.