𝐑𝐈𝐌𝐄

Pt 4: Orion

"Is this thing on?" the stone machine inquired, its red eye lights scanning the room. They settled on Griffith and Kingston, glowing eerily and giving the librarian an odd sense of vertigo. "Oh, there you are. Can you hear me?" Kingston found himself nodding, looking away from the bright red light since he was sure he would go blind if he looked at it any longer. They seemed more focused on Griffith, though, who looked weirdly pale in the red light, shadowing his face and making him look somewhat alien.

"Who's the short guy?" the man's voice continued, the lights swiveling to illuminate Kingston. He felt his face flush angrily at being called short, even though the rational side of his mind told him now was not the time to be offended about height and that he should be focusing more on why the voice behind the robot seemed to know Griffith. The Atlantean didn't reply, standing completely still. A sudden suspicion that Griffith didn't choose to leave his home arose in the back of Kingston's mind, prodding at him. He was about to retort when the sorcerer slapped a hand over his mouth, glancing at him in warning. Minerva finally decided to involve herself, hopping down the stairs and climbing up onto a box next to Kingston, just high enough so that she was higher up than him.

"Oh, there's the lizard." The person controlling the robot was the only person that had spoken in the last five minutes, and it seemed like Griffith wanted to keep it that way. Kingston smacked his hand away from his mouth, though he was tempted to bite him instead just because he was mad. The thing turned its dead gaze back to the Atlantean, surveying him as if it were at the grocery store surveying a salmon filet.

"Who are you?" Kingston blurted, his missing shoe forgotten for the time being. Pulling itself up slowly, it started slowly moving towards them.

"You can call me Orion. This machine is one of my hunting dogs," the voice answered, the robot thudding with each heavy step it took towards them. "And I'm afraid my prey's escaped me, so I'm simply shooting another arrow." Minerva had seemingly abandoned them, her previous perch empty of the dragon. I'm going to die, Kingston thought frantically. Man, I don't want to die being squished by a boulder. The monster lifted a jagged metal claw, about to slam it down and impale both of them when its red lights suddenly flickered and it fell forward, the stones rolling away from each other. Minerva squeezed out of a crevice in the body, looking incredibly pleased with herself and chewing on some wires. A rock had landed on Kingston's foot — he kicked it away and shuddered so hard he felt like he was dancing. Griffith, shaking like he'd just gotten off of his first roller coaster but he had chosen a terrifying one, stumbled over to the dragon and pulled the wires from her jaws.

The Atlantean had a lot of explaining to do.

The Atlantean refused to do any explaining.

Instead, he fled up the stairs, grabbing his coat. After quickly retrieving his shoe, Kingston followed after him, watching Griffith rummage frantically through his pockets. He took out a small statuette of a dragon, rolling it around in his fingers for a moment before hesitantly setting it on the ground. He brought his foot down on it, smashing it to bits.

"What are you —?" Kingston started. Griffith looked up at him, eyes wide.

"No time, no time no time," he stammered, making Kingston think of the White Rabbit from Alice in Wonderland. "We have to go now."

"No time for what? Who was that? Why — we?" he spluttered. The endling nodded.

"Now that they've seen you they'll find you, too. Make you tell me where I went. You'll be safer with me, much safer —" he stomped on the statuette one last time, as if squishing a cockroach that wasn't quite dead. Confusion washed over Kingston, just making him want to ask more questions instead of just listening to Griffith. Minerva was pawing at the Atlantean as if demanding attention. He tripped on her, stumbling to keep his balance. He pulled a small bag out of another pocket on his coat, pulling out a small silver ring. Kingston vaguely remembered something from a book about rings in Atlantean culture — something about travel? That sounded about right; five rings around the island used as gateways. As he ran over this in his head, he didn't entirely process the fact that he was being shoved forward towards a hole in his rug that hadn't been there a few seconds ago. He blinked, coming back to reality.