"This is... insanity."
Nysa tightly held her mouth, feeling her gastric fluid soar up her throat. Even as a trained assassin, no amount of conditioning would have prepared her for such a sight.
Inside one of the largest rooms in the Henosis Seekers' transitional base, the ground and walls had been so tainted with blood they had become bright red.
Men, women, children, and elders limply swung with no sign of life, hooked to metallic chains from the ceiling.
Many sorts of fluids dripped down their bloodied limbs, mixing into a dark-colored pool that would make even beasts retch. The way they were stacked reminded Nysa of meat sacks, thoughtlessly strung like slaughtered animals with no regard for their agony.
Next to her, Jonam didn't even blink. He carefully inspected the bodies, looking for clues about the Henosis Seekers.
"These seem to be prototypes," he spoke calmly. "Most likely the products of failed attempts before they successfully created Asteri. You can see significant improvements if you compare the bodies near the entrance to those in the back. This is where they established the theory of half-Dead Spirits."
Nysa shook her head while biting her lip, reminding herself of her mission.
Remember your way of life, Nysa. A thought echoed in her mind. A tool must be indifferent to anything other than its purpose.
She forced her gaze toward the torturous wounds the hanging victims had suffered.
Most of the bodies had signs of surgery, or butchery, to be precise—some had their arms cut off and sewn into someone else, while others had their skin torn apart and given to another. In a few cases, the entire head had been chopped off and attached somewhere else.
"I believe they were trying to replicate the grinding of souls by fastening two bodies together," Jonam concluded.
"After realizing it didn't work with strangers, they tried the same with family members. While a fine attempt, souls aren't immutable substances. In fact, you could even say that they're highly unstable. Forcing two compatible souls into the same body will make them fuse, while incompatible ones will remain separated."
"In both cases, there's no friction to fuel the spell." He pinched his chin, deep in thought. "This means that the key material is a Dead Spirit, one that's compatible with the soul with whom it'll be grafted. Family, close friends, loved ones..."
"Stop, please." Nysa finally snapped. "Could we move on?"
Jonam was bemused at first, then nodded to himself as if understanding her reaction. "My apologies. I forgot you were human. You're biologically programmed with an aversion toward such experiments. I've learned enough, anyway. Let us proceed deeper."
As he led the way outside the room, Nysa managed to calm her unease. She went through the information collected so far.
The transitional base is a regular, although dilapidated, warehouse. It's two stories high, separated into multiple rooms, most of which serve as storage for those hanging bodies. There was a smaller door leading underground, but Jonam said exploring it wasn't necessary.
She remembered its entrance, scarred with pale markings and the wafting stench of sickness.
The Archangel had most likely been kept there before they fled, meaning Nysa and Jonam would have died had they attempted to investigate it. Particularly strong Eidolons would carve their presence into the flow of Mana within areas they stayed in too long, which in turn would corrupt magi that would approach them.
This could easily lead to madness or death.
"This is strange," Jonam suddenly spoke.
He had been walking around in circles for a moment, investigating the same normal-looking spots on the ground. After a while, he stopped in front of a darkened corner, his blue eyes glimmering with Mana.
"Lady Quinctillia, could you come here, please?"
Nysa followed him. "What's the matter? Did you find something?"
"Hmhm," he nodded, waving his hand in front of the corner like a street performer. He grabbed the air afterward, mimicking the gesture of pulling on something.
A layer of reality was torn away akin to a curtain, dissipating in flickering residuals of Mana. It revealed a hidden passageway underneath, already sealed with rocks.
"An illusion." Nysa recognized the phenomenon. "A strong one at that... I would've never noticed it. Your perception magecraft is better than mine."
"Different Sorceries have different specialties. This is worrying, however," Jonam said. "The Henosis Seekers shouldn't be able to use illusion magecraft of this level."
Nysa frowned. "How would you know?"
"Simple—it's because we cannot, either. The Mekkubal Order and the Henosis Seekers share the same brand of magecraft, although theirs is incomplete. We are all magi of the Lurianic Sorceries."
It was common knowledge amongst magi of this era that there were twenty-five known brands of magecraft—or Sorceries, each linked to a specific Insight Ritual.
The seven nations held only a portion of them, and some were even incomplete. Profaners and Mysteries jealously guarded the rest, and merely documenting their existence was the result of enormous collaborative efforts between the orthodox temples.
The Lurianic Sorceries were part of the latter; until now, few things had been discovered about their nature. The art of crafting Homunculi and Golems was one of them.
"Maybe they have recruited allies." Nysa sent her shadow through the passageway's cracks, investigating its depth. "It leads to a massive underground network right underneath Priene. I've used it before to infiltrate the Great Sanctuary. It's so expansive that the Temple of Stars doesn't even bother covering most of it. It'll be impossible to find them this way."
"I understand." Jonam led the way to the next floor. "Let's see if there's anything upstairs."
The second floor opened to a single, peculiar large room lit by oil lamps. White curtains with strange, black patterns hid half the walls, and Nysa spotted the humanoid shadows of looming figures standing behind them.
As soon as the duo stepped inside, the figures started clinking and ticking, emitting quiet, discordant sounds. They quickly harmonized into a pleasant yet somehow familiar melody, resounding eerily from one corner of the area to the other.
"What are—"
"Automatons," Jonam answered before she could complete her question. "They're mechanical devices. Quite popular in Qeharmenod and the western isles."
Nysa nodded, sweeping the room with perception magecraft to spot any traps. "Do you see anything?"
"I see many things," Jonam seemed disturbed for some reason. "No traps, however."
He tapped one of the adjacent walls, pumping Mana right inside the structure.
Three featureless Golems, similar to the one he had created previously, emerged from the limestone. He carved a specific symbol on the head of one of them with a Mana-enhanced finger, then ordered the two others to guard the stairs.
"You're being awfully cautious compared to earlier," Nysa said.
"I'm noticing variations in their usual patterns. The Henosis Seekers are behaving oddly." He cautiously walked deeper inside, shadowed by his marked Golem.
In the middle of the room, a regular-looking table was set with various sprawled pieces of papyrus, wood-carved, crow-shaped trinkets, and stone-sculpted statues of winged humanoids. The stone effigies were particularly ominous to behold, with noticeable misshapen edges and imperfections seemingly chiseled in.
Moonlight poured in shyly from a large window, facing directly at the table from the furthest wall. It was the only one uncovered by the curtains.
Nysa frowned. "Nothing has been touched. It's like they didn't bother hiding their presence aside from sealing the underground passageway. I understand that they escaped in a hurry, but would they really leave all these documents intact?"
She cautiously went through the pieces of papyrus, unfolding those that seemed important. Unfortunately, they weren't written in a language she could recognize. It resembled neither Heriperan nor the common tongue.
"I suggest against attempting to read these," Jonam warned after a single glance. "They're written in Zuhor. That's Qeharmenod's secret language. Your eyes will bleed if you try to decipher the text, and I'm not speaking metaphorically."
Nysa immediately let go of the papers. "I thought Qeharmenod's occult language was Qadim."
"I said secret, not ancient. It is known that the Queen of the Mallacht addresses her subjects in Qadim but weaves her machinations in Zuhor. Only those the text is addressed to can read it, and even then, they risk complete blindness. It usually depends on Her whims."
Nysa was familiar with tales of the deviousness of Qeharmenod's Hallowed Sovereign. It was common wisdom not to get involved with Her or Qehari in general, as the people of her nation tended to mimic her perfidy and mischief.
"How are we going to extract information from these documents if we can't decipher them?"
Jonam closely inspected the winged effigies and crow-shaped ornaments. "I don't know about the content of those papyri, but there's plenty of things to conclude from the mere fact of their presence. Texts in Zuhor don't simply show up in the hands of a Mystery like the Henosis Seekers with no reas—"
He abruptly paused, turning to face the room's entrance. Amidst the ensuing silence, they could only hear the Automatons' bloodcurdling melody.
Jonam raised an eyebrow shortly afterward, his face torn between apprehension and shock.
"The Golems guarding the stairs were taken out."