It felt like it had been hours since they'd first entered the "Citadel of Shadows", and Ryruraan was beginning to feel frustrated-- not to mention nervous. The place was as unnatural as the flying ship she'd been confined to for the past weeks, and far more foreboding, with its shining black stone, recessed archways, and carved gargoyles. She'd heard sending-stories and howls about castles built by humans, and some castles built by other elves-- darker elves-- and she was reminded ominously of them, here. And there were eyes, seemingly everywhere, watching them with curiosity, fear, loathing, disgust-- any emotion imaginable-- making her want to withdraw into her own mind, whether or not she was liable to get as lost inside as she felt without, just so that she would not feel so watched.

But she still sensed that sad, pained mind, somewhere within, so she refused to give up, even after their guide, a human named Warfinn, had said they'd seen everything they were allowed to see. So, they went through the "tour" again. It was hard to pinpoint, within the myriad of tunnels and maze of walls, and it kept moving, so that when she finally thought they were going to come upon its owner, it suddenly moved off in another direction. That was the source of her frustration, and what kept her going.

"We have seen that statue three times now," Nonaarama pointed out neutrally, in their own language rather than the one they spoke here.

"Four, actually," Ryruraan corrected him, almost in a whisper. "I'm sorry, my friend... it must seem like a hunt gone wrong, to you."

Nonaarama shrugged his massive shoulders at her, and said simply, "The prey still runs, so you still give chase."

Of all the others, Nonaarama understood best what her upbringing had taught her. For that alone, she would have been drawn to him. She put a hand on his arm, gratitude and affection, but in the movement, turned in a direction she hadn't seen closely before-- and this time, she saw something different. "Sythwyr... we have not been through there before."

Nonaarama's brother turned, and followed her gaze to see what he, also, had overlooked. He turned to their guide and spoke in that other tongue, which Ryruraan could understand-- she understood most languages, because of the thought behind them-- but could not speak as well as he did. "What is through that door?" he asked.

"That?" The human looked, as well. "Oh, you don't want to go through there. That's the lady Mishuvel's garden."

"Garden?" Ryruraan echoed, suddenly hopeful. She hadn't seen anything green and growing in... too long.

"It's a dangerous place, lady," the human said gravely. He'd given up on trying to correctly pronounce her name; the syllables rolled awkwardly off his tongue, and Ryruraan did not begrudge him for avoiding further mangling of them. "The plants themselves reach and grab, and some of them would be perfectly happy with an elf for a snack, if you know what I mean."

"And us without a plant-shaper," Ryruraan murmured in the sythyn tongue. She moved to the door, placing her hands upon it, half in longing and half in farewell to the green, growing things within-- and there she paused. She sent her senses questing past the door, and started to smile. "Who we've been hunting is in here, Sythwyr.... Is there a way for us to get through without becoming a snack for a plant?"

Sythwyr considered a moment before answering, "I can certainly try to protect you-- though the fewer of us, the better, I believe. Brother, would you and the human wait outside?"

Nonaarama simply nodded, and Sythwyr explained for the guard's benefit, "The one we seek, who may be one of ours, is within. I will go, to keep the lady safe. You and my brother must wait-- I know not if I can keep everyone safe."

The poor human seemed perfectly content not to go inside that closed-off garden, but he did open the door politely for the two of them. Sythwyr ducked in first, looking around before starting to work his own strange magic: not even plants could resist the sleepy tug on their very spirits, as the entire spiritual atmosphere surrounding the self-proclaimed death-priest slowly dampened, turning slow and sad. He was, thankfully, accomplished enough a mage not to let his magic affect his friends; Ryruraan could sense the change, but she did not feel depressed. Hopefully, neither would her quarry, for that mind seemed depressed enough as it was.

They walked slowly through the garden, and even though the greenery within drooped and nodded in the slight breeze, as if it was all sad or drowsy, Ryruraan felt a stirring of rightness. She'd grown up in forests, and quite honestly, she'd missed them in the time they'd been flying through space. Even stuck at the Rosaar Norsash-Rrosythry, there had been trees and permission to run through them. Though the plants were unfamiliar, and their spirits dampened to make them docile, they were still green, and still alive, and Ryruraan breathed them in, soaking it up like sunlight.

But there was still the owner of that hurting mind, and they were getting closer. "That way," she told Sythwyr, pointing past him and down a path to their right. Obediently, he turned and led the way, the plants behind them starting to revive again as his aura left them. Ryruraan, though she'd never had the talent of a plant-speaker or -shaper, still sent a thought back of apology, though she had no idea if the greenery could actually understand.

They only had a moment's more to walk before Sythwyr stopped, holding a hand up to block Ryruraan from passing him. That hand kept her quiet, as well, while he carefully parted quiescent leaves and peered through, into a small clearing just off the path. His breath sighed out slowly, surprise, shock, and a little disappointment. The clearing was not empty, but also apparently was not what he'd hoped for.

Ryruraan couldn't see past Sythwyr, not through the hole he'd made: he was too much taller than she. Instead, she peered under the much taller Searcher's arm, through another breech in the leafy veil, and caught her breath. This was, indeed, the mind she'd felt-- but it definitely was not a sythyn part-blood to be Searched!

The creature-- Ryruraan didn't know what to call her-- was dark violet, hunched over and apparently quadrupedal, with two sets of smoky wings, two twitching tails capped with poison stingers, and... three heads, all focused morosely on the ground. Ryruraan didn't know she would be seeking this. But neither could she turn away now that she'd seen, and known, that this was not what she expected, but at the same time exactly what she'd expected: not sythyn, but still hurting, and still tugging on her thoughts.

So, she eased Sythwyr aside, brushed back the leaves herself, and stepped through.

Chapter Four

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