Shallow remnants of the morning sun crept into the pit almost as if some odd glimpse of heaven. The pressure of the wind could also feel a distinct change, a large gust beginning to torment the ground and sky above.
A young man, looking to be somewhere in his mid-twenties, was waiting near to the end of the hall. His hair was a short jet black, and eyes a rather striking green.
He leaned against an idle skiffer — a look of relative indifference stained on his face. Upon noticing the small group's arrival, he was quick to lurch his body forward. Clipboard in hand, he approached them with a smile.
"Are you the survey squad?"
All of them seemed rather confused, and for good reason. "You're not our scribe…" Bane muttered, "Where the hell is Wyce?"
"I'm his stand-in. He received some rather… troubling news from the district. He went topside to make preparations."
"Preparations? What for?" Caius asked.
The man shook his head. "Didn't say- though I assume it's nothing too major if he didn't tell anyone. Regardless, I still need to make the report."
"Right… Caius Vayne, squad leader."
The others promptly stepped forward. "Bane Tiylaccel."
"Chrono Meityr."
The two other men in the unit peered in from the back — blood still staining their gloves from the corpses they moved.
"Killan Red," One with brownish-red hair spoke, eyes of a similar shade.
The other with light blonde spoke quickly after. "Hoffman Rogue."
The nameless scribe was quick to mark each of their names, though a slight warp on his face into that of concern began to emerge. "Only five of you? What happened to the other two?"
"We were ambushed by a group of demons during our mission," Caius spoke, "both of them went missing around that time."
"Ah, I see," He struck out their names, "two MIA. Then you five are prepared for clearance. Head to the center platform and wait for the lift. Your scribe should be somewhere by the crater."
Caius gave a brief nod before walking onwards. Weaving their way around the bustling facility, they clamored up the metallic deck and awaited the descending lift from above.
Each of them gave a weighted tug against one of the steel wires before clamoring onboard, with Hoffman being the last. As soon as his foot left the base, almost as if on cue, the platform began to ascend.
The higher they got, the more the violent winds began to rock against their vessel. Even the cables, despite their sturdiness, visibly started to buckle and sway.
The sound was deafening — being akin to that of the center of a tornado. Sweltering heat consumed them, facing warmth similar to that of a great flame. In a sense, they were nothing but ashes to a great fire being expelled from beneath them.
Once the lift neared the surface, this force felt like it was only starting to grow. The wash of golden light began to envelop their skin, and the scent of fresh life tainted their noses.
The serene scenery around the crater began to come into view; The supple vision of the great trees, slightly being thrashed by the harsh winds. The blue sky which felt endlessly vast when compared to the slim and bleak reckoning from below.
At long last, they had returned home.
Coming to a sudden stop, a metallic gangplank lowered near the edge of the craft. Caius was the first to trek across, gripping at the edges of his cloak so as to not have it blow away with the wind.
Upon first contact with the gravelly soil, he lowered himself — coating a handful of dirt against his arm. A sigh managed to pass through his lips before a faint whisper emerged. "Home."
"This is no time for reminiscing-" Chrono spewed, "We need to find our scribe."
Caius shook his head, slowly standing form the ground. "Already did."
His eyes shot towards a nearby skiffer positioned near the compound's front. A small bunch of district artificers loaded in and out of the craft, carrying all necessary supplies for what seemed to be an excursion of considerable length.
Wyce stood by the gaping door to the ship, clipboard pressed against his chest and nails being bit at by his teeth. As they began to walk over, the moment his sorry face laid eyes on them, his face nearly turned pale.
"You guys-!" He shouted, running over and tightly gripping Caius' arm. A small pen was placed in the boy's dark hair, just above his ear. Promptly did he grab at it and peer towards his clipboard.
"Wyce, what the hell's happening? What's with the skiffer?"
He rubbed his face. "It's bad, captain. Like... like fucked up levels of bad... Oh gods, where do I even start!?"
Bane gritted his teeth, stepping forward with a scowl in his voice. "You better start talking, Wyce. Hiring a stand-in will affect the mission's grade-!"
"-Calm down, Bane," Caius interjected, "let him explain himself."
Wyce shook his head. "I'm sorry, but I had to hire someone... this is just too much for me to handle on my own... guys, it's finally happened. After a thousand years...
A demon has made it to the surface."