Heim- A Prequel to "The Lazarus Saga"

Ch. 6- The Wandering Star

Bane lost track of how many times he and Orwell trekked the passage leading to the strange facility underground. It was enough time to dress appropriately.

They were both covered in thick elaborate furs from head to toe, leaving only their hands and faces to bare the cold wind that carried through the damp tunnel of stone. Orwell was a large enough man that when combined with furs, faced this cold easily. Bane, however, had to keep his mana constantly flowing in a restless pattern through his channels as well as hug the furs close to his body.

"Thank the heavens for the scraps of fire essence clinging to my soul. I believe I would've died from this cold by now." A gust of wind accompanied by the frost of a sunless hole beat down on them again. Bane sucked his teeth in, grinding them together so they didn't chatter. "This bitter wind! I've come with more fur each time and this wind always seems to find a way to bite at my skin" Bane flapped the furs wrapped around his inner robe in annoyance.

Orwell wasn't saying much back. He seemed to be focused on the task at hand. They had, after all, concluded that within two more launches they would make contact.

All of these young souls, consumed in the tide that was their greed, washed away only to resurface as the will and want of their wicked minds. Tonight, they would place young eyes within the Wandering Star. The thought made Bane grin, and he now knew why Orwell was being quiet himself. The two were in a trance of the unknown. Glory and treasure beyond imagination were within their grasp, and it would only take two more souls to get it.

Once inside the temperature settled. They walked down the same dull white hallway lit by a line of light that shone from the seam of both floor and ceiling. Not waiting for Orwell to reply to his previous comments, Bane spoke again. "I trust your two young lackeys brought us another, well test subject. If you will." He waved a hand about elegantly as if the lesser words and the gesture softened the evil behind their plans. An evil that Orwell seemed all too comfortable with.

Orwell cleared his throat and spoke, snapping out of whatever daze he was lost in. "Yes. Indeed, they have. With the fresh test subject, as you so neatly put it, we should have all we need to reach the Wandering Star. The sun will set soon, so I'll use the time to prep our unlucky subject for the first launch." Orwell turned to Bane, addressing a question that he had yet to ask. It made Bane wonder if he was really without practice. "The boy that was brought here today goes by the name Alias. He's quite resourceful so I'll be sending him on the second launch. I trust that he'll do better to map out the wandering star." Bane shook his head in agreement. "Very well. These are all your children after all. I'll trust your judgment."

Bane crossed his hands behind his back and paced in front of the glass chamber that held the two orphans. Their cries were lost in the glass. A marvel Bane had yet to understand. The glass itself seemed to hold in all sound. It only reminded him of how powerful and advanced his ancestors must have been. As well as the unimaginable treasures that he will find once he finally boards and contacts them through the wandering star. Father Orwell fumbled through a few screens, and the chamber holding the frail girl hissed open. A grin spread from ear to ear on Bane's face as he stared cold, lost eyes into the chamber.

The orphaned girl, no older than eight sat crossed-legged and shivering inside the metal pod. All but the small black seat and the square panel in front of it were made of cold metal. The seat was strange to her. It reminded her of lizard hide, but fake if that made any sense. Which, none of this did to her. But it wasn't as cold as the metal, and she would take all the warmth she could get. Her black hair fell over dull blue eyes, and her hunched body was compulsive with each breath. She was terrified, confused, and delirious from a lack of food and water. One minute she'd fallen asleep safe and sound within the walls of Fabyan's church. The next minute, she was alone and cold inside that glass room. Alone until the sweet boy with golden hair came to join her that is. This time, however, she couldn't even see the darkness that was the world outside the glass chamber. This time, she truly was alone. A voice spoke out from above her and rattled around inside the pod. It was Father Orwell's. The very man she trusted and looked to as a real father. It still seemed unreal to her. The father of the church was a monster beyond comparison, and the last voice she would ever hear.