Figures in mist, pulsating, shining: an unearthly light upon them. Ethan's heart bashed its way into his throat. His very nerve endings screamed for him to move, to act: but Amara held, her face inscrutable, sharp, watchful.
The golden energy of the figures reflected the bright colors of the mist. They were humanoid, but unnatural. Their limbs slid about with an unnatural fluidity, and their eyes-or what Ethan could only assume were their eyes-locked onto him. The pressure of their gaze was unbearable. Ethan's hands quivered around his weapon as if it would protect him, though he knew it wouldn't do much against something so alien.
Amara raised her hand, motioning for Ethan to freeze.
"What are they?" Ethan whispered, his voice barely audible over the tension-laden air.
"Guardians," Amara said, her voice steady, cold, controlled. "Remnants. Not living, but not dead either. Artifact constructs which have been built to become some form of protector or warden of this place."
Ethan looked at her, his mind reeling. Fragments. Build. This was some AI construct, a type of supercomputer program. His head spun around everything. "Guardians of what, exactly?".
Amara stood, her hand not moving again towards the gun. She peered back to the silhouettes again, just slightly moved, their radiating bodies almost pulsing. They seemed alive in this appearance, though they didn't. Ethan wasn't really certain how that was possible either.
"They watch the veil and the roads between the dimensions," said Amara finally, her voice as steady as before. "They probably even felt our trespass. These things do not take kindly to strangers. The veil is their own."
Ethan tried to process all of that, but his fear clouded things. His chest squeezed tight with every instinct yelling at him that this far from done. The air chilled even further as the figures took another step towards them. Ethan didn't know if they were friend, hostile, or only curious, but he couldn't ignore this feeling that they had meant something to him.
"Do they know what we are?" Ethan asked, doing his best to make this conference rational.
Amara shook her head. "Not directly, no. Perhaps they don't see us as human or as an entity. They're reading energy signatures and intent. They feel the movement of us, the thought processes, and beingness. That is why they are reacting this way."
Ethan's gun weighed more in his hands now. His brain flailed about, thinking of what the next move could be. His body tensed, ready to fire, ready to fight, but Amara's words kept ringing in his head. *Stay calm.*
And then the figures moved once again.
They advanced on them, mist flowing and sliding with each step. Ethan could see the outlines of them now-glowing gold that formed featureless, smooth faces. He had no idea if they came to threaten or to evaluate. His muscles tensed up.
"We're not here to harm you," Ethan tried to sound as confident as possible. His voice shook. "We don't need trouble. Just answers."
They all froze. Ethan could see a blur of their glowing bodies take shape, and he could also now feel it so much. The air seemed to carry it, vibrating with some undefined might. He tightened his grip over the weapon.
Amara approached, "Ethan, please trust me. Let me handle this."
She spoke louder before he could protest. "We seek understanding. We mean no offense to your domain or your purpose."
The figures didn't stop moving. Their energy continued to pulse, and Ethan's heart kept racing. His voice grew uncertain. "What if they attack us anyway?" he whispered, gripping his weapon tighter.
Amara shook her head again. "They won't attack unless we give them reason to. Just stay still and trust me."
The figures got closer, now their golden glow lighting up mist. Ethan felt his hands trembling, his breaths shallow. Every part of him was preparing for a fight, but Amara's voice and calm were a steady anchor.
The air between them warmed. Ethan could see their outlines clearly now-figures composed of glowing energy, humanoid in shape, but unmistakably alien. Amara hadn't been wrong. They didn't look alive, nor did they look hostile at first glance. But the way they moved, the way they pulsed and shifted-there was intent there.
It was as if suddenly the sound was made from within those figures themselves, and the air filled with this low hum that came to his bones in vibrations of some language he could not decipher. Amara tensed, weapon drawn, her breathing stiffening, which he felt, too.
"They're communicating," she whispered back at him, eyes shifting over to glance back.
"How?" Ethan shook with a question.
Amara turned. She expelled. "They never mention it. At least nothing commonly used like everyone else does. Their vocabulary is …. encoded. Their speech involves energies. Pulses. Vibrations".
It was hard to keep up with. Communication by energy? What would ever decipher that? And before he could say even one more thing, the noise got loud and the silhouettes shimmed even brighter. The mist writhed around them and Ethan felt that the shroud itself was living, watching, feeling.
"I cannot hear what they are saying," she said tightly. "But they're scanning us, trying to see our intent. Stay very, very still. Don't make any sudden movements."
He tried to do what she said, his breathing shallow. His weapon had weighed him down in his grasp; he would not lower it down at all. Every moment taut, every sound amplified. Ethan swears he could've heard the voices of golden people growing closer, or, at least, had caught the faint and distorted word-like sound floating in the air.
*Why are they here?* he thought. *What do they want from us?*
The air pulsed again, more intense this time, and Ethan felt sharp pressure against his chest. His hands clenched harder on his weapon, the body trembling with strain, but then the pressure stopped. Ethan tried to balance himself.
They began moving again. They came, slow, deliberate step by slow, deliberate step. Amara stood her ground, watchful. Ethan saw the tension in her shoulders.
"We are here not to fight, I told you," she said loudly enough this time, her voice commanding. "We need answers. We mean no harm. Please let us talk to you."
Her words hung in the air. Ethan wasn't sure if they understood her. His pulse felt like it might burst through his skin. He had no idea if they would attack, ignore them, or respond. His mind swam with possibilities.
And then, they stopped moving.
The hum in the air had fallen to a low, vibrating sound. The golden statues seemed to stop, steady and immovable in their light. Their glow no longer seemed nearly so intimidating, not nearly so hostile.
"Perhaps we have a chance," he whispered half to himself.
The figures were not hostile yet, but tension lingered in the air, a quiet, volatile reminder that they were by no means out of danger. Amara took a step back, resting her hand on her weapon as if preparing for whatever might come next.
Ethan had no idea how this would all end, but he hoped to live to find out.