𝙋𝙀𝙉𝘿𝙐𝙇𝙐𝙈 | 𝙎𝙥𝙞𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚 | 𝙈. 𝙊'𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙖

9| 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙩 𝙡𝙞𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝙝𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙗𝙞𝙧𝙙

She could feel her heart throbbing in the pit of her neck, she could feel the heat of her blood underneath her fingertips. She was going to do this.

There was a bit of hesitation, the voice of reason listing off all the reasons why Vishwa shouldn't follow Master Ottavio into the Lesser Hall of Vaultor, starting with her little condition getting her thrown into a containment cell.

Vishwa licked her lips and inhaled, her breaths coming out short and quick. Her chest burnt, her limbs felt like they were on fire, she couldn't stay still for long. She had to do it, she just had to see the fallen deity. A quick detour, so far no one had sensed anything abnormal about her.

This was a sign, a perfect chance she just had to take.

Vishwa pressed the palms of her hands flat against the walls, smiling when the skin adhered to the surface. And take that chance she would.

The ascent was easier now, her palms and soles followed each other in a rhythm pattern as she stuck and unstuck them from the wall. The world flipped on its head as she clung to the corners, her toes digging into the edges where the walls met the ceiling. The bookshelves looked more like shoe-racks from her vantage point, the acolytes and sorcerers were now the size of action figures. She scampered across the ceiling, scared that someone would look up each time her soles skidded across the ceiling when they failed to find a grip. Her heart thumped in her throat, droplets of sweat peppered the skin where her hairline began.

The smile Master Ottavio had on his lips while talking to her had been replaced by a certain grim tautness, his brows having knitted together as he strode down the halls with the acolyte in tow. The edges of his robes flapped behind him with each hurried stride.

His forehead furrowed as he turned to ask the acolyte, dipping his head a little.

"Are you certain?"

Before she could hear the rest of their conversation, they stopped before the doors of the Lesser Hall of Vaultor to talk to the guards. Vishwa stopped, pressing herself flat against the ceiling. The shadows draping over the corners where the light cast by the lamps couldn't reach covered her well enough. She would have a few seconds when the doors opened to slip through, so she crept closer, waiting for her opening.

The second the guards drew the doors open, Vishwa scrambled across the ceiling, praying that none of them looked up. Thankfully the sorcerers and the acolyte were more concerned with what was already in the room instead of what had just entered it.

Vishwa had never been in the Lesser Hall of Vaultor before. A large ribbed dome capped the rounded walls, the sunlight filtering through the central oculus forcing her to stay at the lower margins of the dome where the shadows remained the darkest.

The beam of sunlight fell on a large black ceramic urn kept on a pedestal in the centre of the room, the parts of its smooth surface unobscured by talismans, threads or spell papers shining. Master Mordo, Master Kaecilius and her Uncle Wong watched Master Ottavio enter the room with the acolyte, moving forward to greet him.

Vishwa felt a shiver raking across her tensed muscles when she saw her Uncle's face. Uncle Wong had always been rather grumpy, but his face always had that undertone of affection each time he grumbled at her for playing a prank on him or told her to go study. The Master Wong standing in the room below her however had a visage as stern as marble, much like those on the sculptures of emperors, war heroes and saints back at HK. She clung to the surface above her. Thoughts of regret had begun to swirl within her, her mouth running dry.

Judging by the way Uncle Wong's lips were thinned out with stress, he would probably throw her into containment himself if she were to be caught, disown her and refuse to talk to her ever again for as long as he lived. Vishwa felt her heart sinking like a capsizing boat all over again.