10 – Respite Amidst the Goom (3)

"If you may, feel free to follow my steps, and onto Blightmoor we shall enter," the man spoke with a smile that held a sadistic edge, causing his sharp, shadowed eyes to gleam with an unsettling intensity.

In the meantime, Imbra could feel Lyra's body shaking uncontrollably. Not that he was able to do anything about it, however, he attempted to reassure her by pulling his arm behind her head, signalling support for her to lean back on.

"How can we be certain that you are not an agent of chaos or some other nefarious entity? We wish to avoid unnecessary trouble, sir," Lunar smiled, stepping toward Imbra, who stood furthest from them all. He locked his eyes on the man standing in front of him. The situation took a sudden twisting turn—the gravity of the atmosphere heavied down tremendously as the two held a staring contest. "What would happen if we turned away from Blightmoor, sir…"

"Maximus is my name. Your arrival here is yet another intricate and undeniable dance of Fate that unravels in this world. It cannot be simply rewritten... or can it?" Maximus smiled again.

"Will you be able to procure us lodgings for the duration of our staying?" Lunar asked.

Maximus nodded assuredly. "Fear not, for I shall provide you with the most exquisite accommodations. Your presence, as the Children of Darkness has been eagerly anticipated. I presume you seek an audience with our Lord, Lamar, am I correct?"

"Indeed we are," Imbra responded. "What occurred to the former lord of Blightmoor? And what is the ordeal with your master's anticipation of mine?"

"The previous lord was one cruel lord, who brought many tragedies and hardships on the people of Blightmoor. I would rather wish my Lord to have taken the throne of the new, reborn city, but it seems like Julius, his fervent servant has been appointed to the throne."

"Has the Holy Church ever come in contact with the city of the present?"

A wry smile played upon Maximus' lips as he answered, "They have indeed made attempts, but as long as their supreme leader keeps a safe distance, their chances of breaching these walls remain impossible. I have guarded Blightmoor for many months, allowing only those with my permission to cross its threshold. While I grant you entry, I cannot allow you to pass through Blightmoor without meeting my Master first. I must emphasize, your presence has been highly anticipated..."

Imbra and the others exchanged puzzled glances. They were aware of Lamar's prophecy, yet this level of anticipation for someone other than Lamar seemed unexpected. With a commanding tone, Imbra posed the question that lingered in their minds, "Is it because of the Forsaken's prophecy?"

Maximus' voice lowered, its volume dripping with intensity, "You are gravely mistaken," his cryptic words left them further perplexed. Before Imbra could respond, Maximus interjected, his eyes gleaming with a sense of determination. "You see, everything that has unfolded is a result of a presence, a presence that operates in enigmatic ways."

"You seem to be quite indecisive on your superior," Zynphina jested.

A smirk played upon Maximus' lips as he responded, "I am but a pawn, a chess piece awaiting orchestration by the grandmasters. But this time, I shall orchestrate my own actions. Please, allow me to guide you to the newly reborn city of Blightmoor."

"Let us go," Imbra declared, his gaze sweeping over the group as they followed Maximus' lead. With each step, the ethereal black cloud surrounding him dissipated, and before their eyes, Blightmoor materialized. The grandiose walls emerged as if conjured from thin air, an invisible curtain lifting to reveal the sprawling city below. The once grassy path transformed into a stony thoroughfare, leading them to a colossal gate that guarded the city's inhabitants from the outside world. Two towering guards stood sentry on opposing sides, clad in gleaming metallic armour, their imposing swords shimmering with unwavering loyalty to the new Lord of Blightmoor. They were prepared to face any challenge that dared impede their endeavors.

As they neared the gate, Lyra peeked her head above Imbra's clothes, scanning the surrounding area with curiosity. "It seems like we will not be needing you anymore," Imbra said, prompting Lyra to let out a short, heartfelt gasp. She turned her head toward Imbra, and plead, "Are you sure? I… I have healing abilities!"

"Oh?" Zynphina pondered. "Are you a member of the Holy Church perhaps?"

"No, I am not," Lyra retorted. "It is a rare gift individuals of my race are able to cultivate. I am one of the few capable of performing healing magic without worshipping The Light…"

"We have got quite the rare catch, it seems!" Lunar interjected. His words struck Lyra to her core, and she glanced up at Imbra, her voice barely a whisper, "...catch…?"

Imbra remained silent in response, glancing at Zynphina, who retorted the same thought: She might be useful to them in the future.

He then turned his attention back to Lyra, who still glanced at him in apprehension. "Lyra, where are your parents?" he asked. As Lyra's demeanor grew suddenly solemn, retorting with a decreased volume, "My parents…" she lowered her head. "…I don't have parents anymore."

"So you lied to us," Imbra retorted. Only to be met with a silent response. Lyra's head decreasing even more in guilt and sorrow. Her shoulders drooped, as she drew her limbs close to her body. Imbra let out a frustrated sigh before questioning her once more, "Do you have a place to stay?"

"No…" she responded, her head still decreased.

"Perhaps it would be better if we took her in. She seems quite emaciated, too," Zynphina added, walking next to Imbra.

"Fine. Have you eaten anything already, Lyra?"

"Erm… not really."

"Wait until we arrive at our lodge. I will fetch you a meal."

"....."

Silence hung in the air as they continued their journey, with Lunar breaking it, asking Imbra, "Are we planning to stay here for long?"

Once again, Imbra offered no immediate response. His gaze shifted to Maximus, who led the way as they approached the two guards stationed in front of the gate. "Good day, sir!" one of the guards exclaimed, opening the gate to Blightmoor. As the gate swung open, the entire city materialized before their eyes. It was a sight they could never have anticipated—a city nestled like a splinter in a vast hayfield.

As the gates revealed the breathtaking scene, Lyra retreated, concealing herself once more, allowing only her head to peek out. The others, including Imbra himself, stood in awe, their gazes fixed on the unexpected beauty that unfolded before them.