As the vast mechanical body moved, the spire shone with a brilliant light at each step that it took. Ethan's hand trembled as he grasped his weapon, for every and each sound vibrated sharp and menacingly portentous within this charged stillness. The spire pulsed along, lighting their features with this blueish ethereal glow dancing ominously across their skin. The machine seemed a ruthless storm, ever closing in.
"Keep your weapons low. Trust Kael," Amara whispered softly, her voice sharp as a blade. She had stepped closer to his right side, her face just as calm as stone could be, yet she was just as prepared for the fight as he. He could feel her calm grounding him, even though that anxiety in his chest felt ready to strangle him.
Hold your positions, Kael's voice crackled over the comms. It cut sharp, commanding, like a cold knife. Let it come. Let it show its hand.
The machine's glowing eyes settled once more on the spire; its massive limbs rose, twisting in queer ancient gesturing, attempts to hook into the fabric of the structure itself. The energy in the spire shuddered beneath his fingertips, symbols blooming up brighter.
Air vibrated beneath the weight as Ethan grew winded within his chest.
"Something's happening," Ethan whispered.
No one got to say a word as the spire's glow intensified, sending waves of heat and pressure outward. Ethan steeled himself as the ground shuddered beneath him. The presence was more than intimidating-it was alive-and they were on the threshold of its secrets.
They hadn't quite accounted for the abrupt motion. The great hand of the machine, fingers of metal smooth and glowing, extended to touch the spire again, halted a few feet from contact. And the air seemed to ripple with the motion. The comms were silent, other than the quiet of their breathing, but tension was in every breath.
"Ceate what is it after, with inside the spire?" asked Amara into the silent, her voice thought of yet tight.
Kael stood up to stand into reach of the giant's, his words smooth as milk. "Knowledge. Strength. Maybe it feels the spire has something it needs in."
The sentence hung aloft, its weight the one that made Ethan tug tightly on the hilt at the blade, yet still was Kael's voice that proved steady.
They hardly had a second to react when the voice of the machine came again, once again low, rumbling, and incomprehensible in a way that makes one's bones rattle, the words from it unfamiliar yet ancient, and there seemed to be this intent vibrating off them. It was saying something, but to who? To them? To the spire?
"What did it say?" Ethan almost asked, turning to Kael for answers.
"I don't know," Kael said quietly, and frustration made his words catch in his throat. He furrowed his brow as he looked at the shining machine. "But we'll learn it."
Before they could even take one step to prepare for what was next to come, the spire flared once again, this time brighter by many degrees, and its body responded to the pulsing beat of the spire by slightly shifting. Groaning earth responded; immense limbs moved with seemingly ancient purpose. The machine is impossibly powerful, its deeds deliberate yet enigmatic. Ethan's mind whirs round all the possibilities: Weapon? Relic? Sensate force tied to some other purpose of this spire?
He didn't feel very capable against it.
"Stay ready," Kael said again, his voice low. "We don't know what it's planning."
Once again, waves rolled through the air as the machinery's limbs lashed up toward the spire: the presence was crushing, a weight that seemed suffocating. Ethan struggled for footing as the earth lashed beneath him. This machine's hand was impossibly huge, every movement deliberate: he could feel Amara's tension beside him in every sharp breath, and how tightly she gripped the handle of her weapon.
The machine hesitated, inches above touching the spire. This spire itself came alive now, pulsing with energy that danced with a heartbeat. Ethan felt his skin pricking to heat and could feel the resolve slipping from his palms. The spire's power was in tune with this thing, or maybe the thing was in tune with the spire; either way, he could feel his choices slipping through his fingers.
A sudden sound echoed through comms—a jarring, static-filled voice snapping the moment.
Scouts-check in. We've got movement close by. Stay vigilant.
One of the fresh scouts. Ethan's belly went hard at the sound of his voice. There's always something else out there that he doesn't know about, something else that is possibly going to hurt him. Tension was building; they were spiraling closer towards something they didn't yet understand with each passing moment.
Kael's hand tightened a little tighter around his gun. "Steadiest. Hold, but stand ready to roll."
Ethan listened to the ragged breaths in the comms, short and jerky. His mind was spinning linking dots: the spire, the machine, their link, their ancient destiny. A question hung there like a poison inside his chest.
What does it wait for? What does it want?
Once again the spire pulsed, once again the machine's hand twitched, and Ethan's heart pounded. Amara looked between the two of them, trying to decode it all for herself.
And then, without warning, the machine's voice came again-this time louder. The sound filled their bones and the air and the ground beneath their feet. They could feel it rattling their very cells.
Kael took a sharp breath and stepped forward, his voice clear and resolute. "We come in peace. We wish to communicate. We are explorers, not enemies!"
The words hung there in the air, a fragile attempt at peace. The machine's glowing eyes stared, unyielding, its ancient voice pulsing once again. Ethan could feel its weight, its presence, probing at them.
He stepped forward, placing himself by Amara's side. 'We don't want to cause any trouble, we only want to learn and to look.
The machine paused, its great form quivering as the spire pulsed brighter, filling the air with an otherworldly glow. Ethan could see that Kael and Amara's attempt at communication had a strange effect. The machine's voice cut off momentarily, replaced by silence, and Ethan could feel the machine's gaze pressing on them like a storm.
They waited. Every second was an eternity.
And at last the creaking voice of the machine rose once more, slow now, deliberate, but in its sounds was some layer of ancient rhythm, so meaningful.
Kael breathed so hard. "It is answering."
The air seemed chilly. Yet his body shook and quivered as if it was sinking even deeper within that machine's presence. Form of communication? Some sense of knowing them?
Just as he was starting to form an answer, another sound cut through the air-a low rumble that had begun, somehow, beyond the spire. Ethan's blood seemed to freeze over.
Motion.
It was just a start.