100 AC / 55 HA
Hermione
I emerged from the dreamscape just as those words were uttered, only to look up, horrified at the sight.
The being that floated before us hardly resembled a human. Despite wearing the garb of one, he was anything but. Hazkar uttering his name solidified his identity, but even that did not reveal who or what he truly was.
Shrouded in human leather, a statement most cruel was being made before us. The leather was clearly stitched from the remains of a multitude of people, shifting in tone and texture as it cloaked the monster's face. Long, jagged stitch marks stretched all over the shroud of human suffering, heavily stained with dried blood.
I was certain that if I were close enough to smell it, I would regurgitate promptly. Being enclosed in the divine dome maintained by Father and Hazkar kept me safe from the mist, as well as the suffocating malaise of the Shrouded Lord.
The Stone Men had now gathered in their thousands around us, while he floated over them, eerily silent. The ruined city of Chroyane looked exactly how Valyria was painted during the Doom; the difference being that instead of fire, it was the mist, and instead of smoke, it was petrified overgrowth that choked it.
"Be careful. I have never met nor heard of the powers of this malevolence. We need to enter the temple and see what has happened to Mother," Hazkar cautioned, his single eye fixed upon the Shrouded Lord.
"Hermione, stay behind me, and regardless of the circumstance, do not interfere. Do you understand?" Father spoke calmly, though his voice was grim.
I nodded.
"He has not spoken. Is he perhaps unable to?" Father mused.
"Unlikely," Hazkar added. "He is waiting for us to speak first."
Hazkar walked forward, exiting the divine dome while Father continued to maintain it. He stood several paces below the Shrouded Lord before speaking in a strange, guttural tongue.
"Hortha i quettanyar, Heru Mumbëa, nauvalye nóre Zahken yondo Rhoyne-o. Aníron entulye ni i mande ontaryanyao ar antalyë men panya i Rhoyne-o Karyassë." [Heed my words, Shrouded Lord, you stand before Zahken, son of Rhoyne. I beseech you to tell me the state of my mother and grant us passage into the Temple of Rhoyne.]
The being seemed to listen, for he floated down closer to Hazkar before answering back in the same foreign tongue.
"Nárië meldanya Zahken. Nana nassë melwa ná tenna entuluva yondo monyallo. Meryal elye antalyo farya alya sinda i taurëarë ar indomëo sa. I eldar ve' i ohtari ú-laminna ná." [Bid thee well, Zahken. The mother shall be most overjoyed at the return of her son. You are certainly welcome to enter the temple and commune with her. Outsiders, however, shall not be permitted.]
The Shrouded Lord had a very ghostly voice—loud, but spoken as if from the hissing lips of a snake. It sounded incredibly eerie and unsettling to the ears.
"Old Rhoynish," Father spoke just then. "Only a few places in the world still speak it. The Orphans of the Greenblood in the Sunset Kingdoms come to mind."
I nodded, finally having an answer to the mysterious tongue. "What are they speaking of?"
Father shook his head. "I know not. Rhoynish water magic had little to do with spoken language, so I never bothered to learn beyond the basic letters and words. I know Hazkar asked to enter the temple, but the other parts of the conversation are unknown to me."
Hazkar walked back to us after offering a stiff nod to the Shrouded Lord. "It would seem he awaited my return. Yet, he will not allow you to enter the temple or the city." Hazkar paused, glancing toward the endless crowd of Stone Men. "He likely will not attack you in my absence, but be cautious nonetheless. Once I have communed with Mother, I shall return to fulfil our oath."
Father nodded. "Send a signal if something unlikely occurs."
They stared at each other for a long moment before exchanging a curt nod. Hazkar turned around and walked into the dead city, the scores of Stone Men parting seamlessly to allow him to enter.
The wait was agonizing. We stood just outside the invisible boundary of the ruined city, surrounded by thousands of eerily silent Stone Men. Above them, the Shrouded Lord floated like a gruesome banner of human suffering, his dark shrouded face turned toward the grand temple where Hazkar had disappeared.
Then, it happened.
A brilliant, breathtakingly pure golden light suddenly descended from the broken heavens, bathing the highest, shattered spires of the temple in a divine glow. It was a light of true warmth and maternal love. I felt my chest loosen slightly. Mother Rhoyne had answered. Hazkar had reached her.
But my relief did not even last a full second.
The divine golden aura violently crackled, emitting a sound like a thousand breaking bones. The pure light abruptly sickened, shifting into a dull, rotting grey, before instantly collapsing into a suffocating black. It was not merely the absence of light; it was a radiating darkness that seemed to greedily devour the surrounding air.
"Father," I gasped, stepping backward as a sharp spike of malice hammered against my newly reinstated Occlumency shields. "Father, something is terribly wrong."
"I know," Father answered, his voice tight with calculation.