Mysteries

"I have a theory. But first, have you ever heard about the Mysteries?"

Nysa's dark-brown eyes widened. "Vaguely, and only when I was a child back in Sethia. They're blasphemous cults from the Profane Lands."

"That's putting it lightly. I guess they're not as much a threat for the Sethian Empire as they are for Hierapetra." Iphiclus took on a slightly more comfortable posture, back against his seat. "As you said, Mysteries are cults that originated from the Profane Lands. They worship strange entities from the Reverse Boundary of the World and are usually very hostile towards the seven nations."

"However, we're always quick to dismiss them as a uniform group of miscreants. Profane Lands is merely a token name to refer to territories outside the Hallowed Sovereigns' sphere of influence. They're numerous, vast, and present on every continent."

"With numbers comes diversity, not only in views but also in actions." Nysa followed Iphiclus' train of thought, her fingers delicately pinching her chin. "It'd be foolish to presume to understand the goals of such a large and fragmented group, let alone predict their actions."

Gentle rays of sunlight clashed against Nysa's copper skin, giving it a fairer shade while she tilted her head. "Iphiclus... Are you implying that a particular Mystery is involved in what's happening inside the Great Sanctuary?"

"It's merely a theory. There are many other possibilities, but my current observation leads me to believe this one is the most likely. Still, I'm simply a spectator, no longer a player. Second-hand information can skew one's judgment rather easily."

"Then allow me to add some weight behind the theory of Hierapetra's most skilled informant." Nysa's barely veiled praise echoed weakly across the theatron. "What made you reach this conclusion?"

Iphiclus' expression turned stiff. "I cannot talk about it. I'm no magus, and you know very well how dangerous it can be for us when investigating such matters."

Nysa understood her informant's situation very well, but his fearful reluctance still surprised her. Out of caution, she extended a finger and sent her shadow to survey their surroundings.

"How likely is it for my mission to succeed with the Mystery's interference taken into account?"

"You'll be killed before you even reach the Great Sanctuary's outskirts." Iphiclus spoke in a matter-of-fact tone, leaving no uncertainty.

Even though his confidence in her failure stung, Nysa accepted the warning gracefully. She adjusted the folds of her greenish cloak, laying them on each side of her seat like a lady of high pedigree. From out of earshot, their conversation would seem like a pleasant meeting between acquainted elites.

"I'll still need to accomplish my task," Nysa said after a brief silence. "I doubt you'd have accepted to meet me without at least a helpful suggestion. You owe it to me, Iphiclus... If only to honor my father's memory."

Iphiclus' stone-cold face twisted into a grimace. "You crafty little thing. You've learned that throwing money at me is useless, so now you're pulling at my heartstrings? By all rights, honoring your father's memory should imply rescuing you from Helle's grasp, not leading you to certain death."

"I'm doing it whether you're helping me or not." Nysa's resolve rang clearly in her voice. "But your answer will decide if I live or die past my mission's success."

Perhaps struggling to reach a decision, Iphiclus clenched his fist until his knuckles turned white, trying hard to stifle his exasperation. Nevertheless, after long seconds of painful quiet, he finally broke his posture, shoulders slumping down in defeat.

"... There's currently more than one Mystery in Priene."

Nysa's expression twisted in surprise, and she opened her mouth to speak, though she didn't have the time to say anything before Iphiclus continued:

"The Mystery that's probably interfering with your mission calls itself the Henosis Seekers. They originally come from the Central Continent's Profane Lands and tend to orchestrate large-scale, ritualistic massacres for gods know what obscure goals. Whatever happens, do not engage in combat with them."

Nysa moved to speak again, but Iphiclus' raised palm cut her off. He shushed her with a meaningful look, resignation written all over his face.

"Your best bet is a diversion. I can't tell you why the Henosis Seekers want to keep the Celestial Offering alive, but it's big trouble—the kind of trouble that the Temple of Stars wouldn't leave unchecked. Hence, it'd be relatively easy to make both sides clash before the Sacrificial Ceremony. When that happens, your chance to kill the boy will surely come."

"How am I supposed to make them clash if the Henosis Seekers are keen on remaining discreet? Moreover, what's this about there being more than one Mystery in Priene?" Once she got the chance to talk, Nysa bombarded him with questions.

"There's a popular saying amongst residents of Lichtenhimmel's border towns. When the Seekers rear their heads, the Order will always be here with the muzzle. It alludes to an ongoing conflict in the Central Continent between the Henosis Seekers and another Mystery referred to as the Mekkubal Order."

Iphiclus passed a hand through his lustrous blond hair. "The Mekkubal Order appears only when the Henosis Seekers show themselves. They'll hunt them down, clash against each other, and leave a trail of bloody battlefields. Other than that, they have no goals we know of, no designated purpose, and no discernable pattern of actions."

"If the Henosis Seekers are in Priene, the Mekkubal Order will be here too. It's a disaster waiting to happen—one during which the Temple of Stars won't stay idle. If there ever was a chance of killing the Celestial Offering, this is it. It's your diversion."

Nysa processed the information as quickly as possible while formulating a working plan. "If I'm to be the spark that kick-starts the blaze, I still lack crucial intel."

Suddenly, she heard a finger snap and saw a golden blur heading toward her face. Her dark eyes followed its trajectory, and she caught the mysterious object with an effortless grab.

It was a round piece of gilded metal, bigger than a golden Daric but much lighter. The word eye was written in Heriperan on its surface.

"This shall help you when your trustworthiness is questioned," Iphiclus said before she even got the chance to ask. "Head for the agora and look for a man named Bianor of Cebrene. Interrogate him but do not listen to anything he says. You'll figure it out from there."

Iphiclus rose from his seat, looking wearier than ever. "This is all I can do to help you, Quinctillia—"

"And it's more than enough," Nysa quickly followed suit, gracing him with an elegant bow. "Thank you again, Iphiclus."

"You should curse me. I have failed you, just as I have failed your father." Iphiclus turned towards the theatron's exit. "Your stubbornness will lead you to an early grave, but that's not unlike him, is it? Farewell, and let's not meet again, for both our sakes."

Unperturbed by his rant, Nysa's jewelry clinked as she took another exit. Her shadowless silhouette walked between the vacant seats without another word and, just like that, forever parted ways with her father's last friend.