You still have much to learn, tainted one, the aged voice said. To slight us with your hostility, imposes a penance. Refusing to kowtow, together with, rebuffing the Ancient’s primal method of communication, telepathy, Kian just added another slur to the list. “I’ve come for my brother. By order of the Oracles, release him,” he demanded. A piercing ache in his skull, likewise, a warm, syrupy wetness filled his sleeve as the blade drilled into bone. Well then, an order is… an order, therefore, released you shall find him. Laughter, a decrepit echo crested the edges of a relenting silence. Now, conscious of the stillness in the chamber, as if it too, held its breath as Kian was, the eternal darkness pressed against his psyche in the same way