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The world is a scintillating void filled with stars, each streaking past like a droplet of ran. Until suddenly, it isn't.
Reality expels a well-dressed but weather-worn man from a rippling fissure in space. Smoke trails off of his body as he strikes the stone floor, bounces several times, and then rolls to a stop next to a stretch of dead grass. A few wobbling rings roll lazily at the nobleman's side, and one of his shoes lays smoking a few feet away.
He takes a little while in this disorientation to right himself, pawing at the cracked stone under him. Old, dead leaves crumble at his touch and he feels a scathingly hot sun hammering down on him. Rising to his knees, the nobleman looks around at the chamber he was so violently thrown into: an interior garden beneath a demolished glass dome. Behind him, a stone wall adorned with gold reliefs of trees and marching figures in single-file line draws his undivided attention. Runes of light seethe within the reliefs, while a carving at the center of the relief swirls with dancing runes in ever-changing geometric patterns.
"Synar!"
The nobleman jumps when he hears his name called. Synar scrambles to his feet, hastily scooping up the rings that flew off in his transportation and the still-smoking shoe. "Here!" He calls back, moving toward the sound of the voice.
"You've got to see this!"
"See wh—" Synar's question dies in his throat the moment he steps out of the domed building, where he sees the sprawling ruins of a metropolis larger than Absalom spread out before him. The city is as silent as a tomb, save for the whistling of hot wind that whips down the streets. But it isn't even the sweeping architecture or the sheer scale of the city that has stolen Synar's voice, it is the view of the horizon that crushes down from a starlit night sky to the brilliant orange glow of what looks like sunset. Except the sun—no, two suns—burn directly overhead in a starry night's sky.
Synar stands in silence, and the man who had called him over steps to his side. Alistair Delgado is a few inches taller than Synar (even if the nobleman opted to stand up straight). Delgago turns his yellow eyes out to the horizon and clicks his tongue in disbelief.
"What do you make of it?" He asks, Synar, who just shakes his head in stunned silence. "Have you ever seen anything so beautiful in you entire life?"
Synar shakes his head. The only thing he can think to ask is, "Where's Izah?"
Delgado tilts his head to the side, indicating a crumbling set of stairs that descend down to an ancient thoroughfare into the city. Synar follows Delgado's indication and finally sees the efreeti waiting patiently at the head of the street for them.
"What's he make of all this?" Synar asks in a hushed voice as Delgado heads in that direction. The only answer he gets back is a helpless shrug.
"You know how he is." Delgado says out of the corner of his mouth.
When the pair reach the bottom of the stairs to the thoroughfare, Izah turns to greet them with a silent but thoughtful stare before saying, "I'm pleased to see neither of you were tuned into dust traversing the star bridge. I understand how concerned you both were."
"Mostly solid." Delgado says, patting himself down. "Just the way I like it."
Synar grimaces and looks back at the domed building. There is a stream of blue light steadily rising out of the ruined roof, tapering off into nothingness as it stretches into the sky.
"How long will that stay active?" Synar asks his companions.
Izah looks at the beam, then down to Synar. "Until we disengage it. Such are the specific parameters of your wish." Synar nods thoughtfully, then turns to survey the city around them.
"That said, I would recommend not tarrying too long. Though the Dawnflower protects us, I do not know if even she can see us here." Izah adds, reaching a clawed hand up to the ankh icon of Sarenrae hanging around his neck.
Delgado takes a few steps forward, then motions to the largest structure visible from street level: a sweeping palace of crystal spires rising up against the star-speckled sky. "Let's head to high ground and get a lay of the land, then maybe we can start dividing the city up into quadrants and figure out what to catalog first, and how we can stabilize that device that got us here."
Synar finally looks away from the beam of light and back to the others. "Agreed, the palace seems like a good start." But there's a hesitance in his voice. He nearly keeps the next thought to himself, but as the others start to move forward he calls out to them. "Do—do you..."
Izah and Alistair stop and turn to look back at Synar.
"What do you think happened to everyone here?" Synar asks.
Delgado shrugs and gestures with a thumb over his shoulder.
"That, my friend, is what we're going to find out."
___________________
Eighty-Six Years Later...
The Infernus
Inner Sea, 7 Miles from Almas
Neth 24
4734 AR
___________________
Izah the Golden slouches back against the iron chair in his captain's quarters, resting his head in one hand. He taps thick, dark nails against his right horn, burning eyes transfixed on the enormous tome laid out on the desk in front of him, filled with cryptic glyphs.
"I'm sorry, what?" Izah says after a moment of tense silence, looking up from the book to the slim figure of Adelard Laurent across the desk from him.
Laurent dips his head down into an apologetic bow. "It's a cypher, the text as written is incomprehensible."
"Are you not, by trade," Izah says through his teeth, sitting forward in his chair, "a cyphermage?"
Laurent grimaces and wrings his hands together. "With all due respect, my Lord, that not precisely what our order is about. But I do see the irony in—"
"I do not care about how amusing you think the fucking wordplay is!" Izah bellows, rising up from his desk, flames lapping up from his hands to his shoulders, swirling around his gold-inlaid horns. Adelard shrinks back and raises his hands over his head, cowering from Izah's anger.
"I meant no disrespect!" Adelard howls, and Izah clenches his jaw shut and slowly calms. As he does, the flames around his body subside. "I meant no disrespect," Adelard repeats as a whisper.
With a gesture, Izah lifts the book from the desk with an unseen hand and directs it to hover in front of Adelard. "How long will it take to decipher?"
Adelard takes the heavy tome in hand, shaking his head slowly. "I can't give you an estimate, my Lord. I've examined the first hundred and sixty pages, and each page appears to utilize a different cipher method or... some sort of evolving... I'm not sure. I know it can be done," he is quick to add, "but I don't know for sure how long done will take."
Izah rubs his eyes with his fingers and slowly paces his cabin, horns nearly scuffing the high ceiling. "Take it to Avignone." He mutters.
"Sir?" Izah's order causes Adelard to rankle. But before Izah has to repeat himself, Adelard reconsiders questioning the efreeti's choices. "Ah, yes. Cassius. Of course. It will be done right away."
Adelard bows and uses that opportunity to take a few steps back closer to the cabin doors. But as he starts to turn his back on Izah, the efreeti rumbles one final instruction. "I want to know everything Avignone can pull from the book. And if you suspect that he is hiding anything..." Izah turns to face Adelard. "You let me know."
Adelard smiles, nervously, and cradles the heavy tome to his chest. "Absolutely my Lord, at once." With that, he takes two more steps backwards and pushes his way out of the captain's cabin onto the freezing cold deck of the Infernus. When Adelard is gone, Izah's shoulders say and he slouches against the wall and looks out the tall windows at the back of the room.
"Patience..." He says to his distorted reflection in the window.
"Patience."
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