The Ancient Echo
The air in the aqueduct tunnel grew colder and heavier with a primordial dampness as Julian and Elara proceeded deeper into the forgotten underbelly of the city. The drip, drip, drip of water was now accompanied by a soft, rhythmic sloshing, a sound that seemed to announce the glowing, humanoid figure that emerged from the pool. Elara's mind struggled to reconcile what she was seeing with any reality that she was familiar with.
What's that? She breathed, a whisper barely audible, as Julian jerked her behind a broken pillar. His previous unease had reappeared, displacing his customary icy calm.
The creature solidified further, its form shimmering with iridescent light blues, greens, and purples, like light through water. It was tall, impossibly graceful, and clearly not of this world, or at least, not in the normal sense. Its eyes, twin sources of pure, cold light, were on Elara, and they projected an ancient, unmistakable power. And the whispers, now clear, appeared to emanate from the water, the walls, and the air itself around them:
Lucas Vance's daughter. You cannot flee your fate. Yield the line. Yield the power. Come back to us, child of Aethel.
It's talking to you. Julian snarled, his hand reaching instinctively for the gun holstered at his belt, although it seemed utterly useless against the likes of such a creature. What is it?
I. I don't know. Elara stuttered, her thoughts racing. It addressed me as 'child of Aethel.' It spoke of my father's line.
The figure moved another step in silence, the water around it churning with invisible power. The whispers increased in volume, a nearly silent shriek in Elara's mind, causing her head to ache. It was as if an old memory was struggling to come forth, a knowledge long buried inside her.
What do you want? Julian stepped forward a half step, his voice firm despite the overwhelming aura of the creature.
The whispers blended, the single voice resounding in Elara's mind: We are the Guardians of Aethel. Keepers of the Core. Your father opened the way. You will complete it. You will be one with us.
Guardians? Elara asked, her fear temporarily eclipsed by a wave of desperate curiosity. What do you mean?
The water reached out with a hand made of the shimmering liquid toward Elara. In the instant it did, a sudden, shocking vision burst in Elara's mind: a great, churning pool of energy, throbbing with the same shimmering light, far down in the 'Aethel' centre. And then a dark figure, unrecognisable yet familiar, at its rim. Her father.
Your father tried to control the power,; the voice of the entity echoed. He vowed balance. But he was unable to finish the final rites. Only a member of his bloodline can fully control Aethel.
Julian, noticing the being's attention on Elara, perceived an opening. What 'rites'? He taunted, trying to divert it. What last command?
The being shifted its shining eyes to Julian, and for the first time, a wave of tangible anger emanated from it. The interferer. The Thorne line. You try to command what you do not understand. You try to gain from the Sacred Fire. Its body appeared to ripple and expand, its voice lowering to a deafening bellow that boomed through the old tunnel. You shattered the old bargain! You unleashed the Shadow on us!
When the creature moved forward, Julian didn't hesitate. Run, Elara! he yelled, firing. The bullets simply passed through the flowing form, doing no harm except to create ripples in the shimmering water, but the crisp reports echoed deafeningly in the little enclosure.
Elara did not need to be told twice. She spun around and ran, clutching the portfolio, her mind reeling. Not just 'The Syndicate.' Not just humans. Something old, something primal, with a direct link to her father's and Julian's families. An ancient conflict between creatures and powers she could not begin to comprehend.
Julian, covering her retreat, fired again, then again, before turning and scrambling after her. The water entity, seemingly unfazed by the bullets, flowed swiftly behind them, its glowing form illuminating the tunnel, its whispers now a deafening chant in Elara's mind: The lineage calls! The blood demands! You cannot escape Aethel!
They crashed through a decaying arch, Julian throwing his weight against the putrid wooden doors to gain them valuable seconds. Elara had no idea where they were or where they were heading. All she was aware of was that the city under her feet harboured secrets more horrific than any she could have dreamed, and she was inextricably linked to them. And as the far-off rush of water became louder, she became aware that their path of escape would take them not to salvation, but to an even worse, watery unknown.