When a Stars Teardrops Become Jewels: Eclipsed Garden

| 4 | The Knight Pogue

Siren slid down the tiles to the end of the roof. Kneeling he grabbed the thick round tile and peered over the fascia to the wall beneath, searching for an opportune window. To his luck there was one directly beneath him. 

Standing, he turned so the heels of his feet were halfway off of the edge. He stepped backward, his hands out in front of him to catch the edge as he fell. As Siren hands caught onto the tile he heard a cracking sound. A part of the tile he was holding onto started to slip, giving in to his weight. Gripping tighter he swung backwards. Then feeling the tile give way, he released his grip and threw his weight forwards through the window. With a small echoing clap from the bottom leather of his shoes, he found that he was fortunate enough to have landed on his feet and not his back.

He released a short breath and looked down at the broken tile in his hands. Thick and sturdy slate stone with a jagged edge where his weight had broken it from its other half. The demon decided to keep it as an impromptu weapon for any surprises. Siren glanced his surroundings to find his positioning.

He was in a long narrow hallway of white marbled square tiles and tall grey stone archways that looked the same in either direction he looked. Candles flickered behind glass and bronze, giving the archways ominous shadows that wavered with every short breath of wind that passed by the flames. 

Reaching into his belt he pulled out a small rolled up scroll which contained a smudged map. Assuming that the finger smear in the right corner was where he was currently at, he should go down the - left - hallway, take a- right and the meeting place should be on the fourth door on the right. He rolled up the map with his fingers and pushed it back in between his belt and his shirt. The slate tile in his hands, he started down his decided path.

Taking a right at the end of the left hallway, he paused at a portrait of a man in armor and equipped with a silver-green spear. His breastplate heralded an emerald dragon with a crown in a tenacious clawed grip. He recalled Medusa's words of the dragon king who made his kingdom prosperous by destroying other kingdoms and other peoples. It was this king who instigated the capture and culling of demons, so that he himself and his blood descendants alone could possess their power. The ancient king's silver eyes glared down at the demon intruder. The demon glared back, then moved on.

Siren passed one door, then another, then another. He walked until he reached the end of the hall. Confused he ended up looking back down the hallway. He counted the doors only to reaffirm his doubts - there were only three doors. 

He pulled back out the map. He recounted his steps in his mind. Western wall, roof, window, hallway, fourth door on the right. There was no mistake, this was where he should go according to the instructions of the informant. In the midst of wracking his brain his eyes became drawn to a sculpture of a woman wrapped in a shawl of stars. The sculptured woman's hands were cupped out in front of her, as if asking for something to hold. Siren, without a thought to it, placed the broken tile piece he had been carrying into her asking palms. He blinked in surprise, startled stiff as the sculptures eyes opened after placing the tile. 

Intrigued, he leaned his face closer to the sculpture. Placing his hand onto the stone woman's hands unknowingly, he pushed downward as he leaned in. The sculptures hands gave way as he heard a mechanical release of air. 

Siren took a step back to regain his balance. In opposite, the sculpture, along with about a foot of wall on each side, swung open to reveal a room beyond. The demon huffed out a airy laugh; half of surprise and half of being impressed. It was a door. The fourth door. 

He moved across the threshold into the room beyond the sculpture door.  

The room beyond was less thrilling than the method used to get into it. Banners sewn with the silver rune insignia of the king were hung on every wall. A large-sized octagonal war table was placed in the center of the room, surrounded by chairs with oversized wooden backrests. Red carpeting patterned with lighter curvy damask lines carpeted the wall with what only those favored with a fortune could afford. Overlapping furs of less fortunate mountain beasts covered the entirety of the ground, the white marble floor only able to peek out of a few teeny slivers. Smothered by the trophies of those victorious in hunting.