The hall could have held an entire world and still seemed empty. All about them, sculptures in marble and porcelain shone with tantalizing light, twinkling like candles in the vast chamber. They walked on tiles of some unearthly stone, their surface shifting with color, reflecting a thousand hues as the glow from the statues waxed and waned.
Their footfalls made no echo. Amilia could not even hear the few breaths she allowed herself to take. She had thought the sighing of the seas the most beautiful thing she had ever heard, but this, this was beyond compare. A paradise of silence that simply would not suffer to be disturbed.
To think that men fought wars, shed blood and razed cities for a hundred fruitless causes, when there existed such a place as this. That the world she knew could house such sanctity filled Amilia with a near rapturous hope. Here was all the answer she would ever need, the saving knowledge that there was a tangible truth higher than suffering – not the wispy promises of deliverance to be found amid the Lore, but here, in consecrated stone, immutable and undeniable. The strife of her people seemed a distant, paltry thing now, an afterthought to the miracle at hand.
Still Xavier led them forward, each step surer than the previous. His flesh collected the luminance and held it fast, incandescence making a shrine of his flesh. He walked now on the path of apotheosis, and if ever there had been doubt in Amilia's heart, there was no more. Wonder remained, though, and awe, deepening with each passing moment. She could only close her eyes and revel in it. A transcendent bliss overtook her, giving their slow procession the substance of a waking dream.
Had he not reached out, clasping her arm in his gentle, irrefusable way, Amilia would have kept on, heedless that her brother had stopped. At first, she saw no reason for it; the cavernous space stretched on in all directions without end, but after a moment, the silhouette of an approaching figure appeared from deep within the recesses of the hall.
Xavier took a step forward, positioning himself in front of her. Ziethal came up at her side, looking nothing so much as humbled. He had never been a religious man. Amilia could scarcely imagine how this must be affecting him.
“What comes?” she heard him ask of Xavier. The sound of his voice seemed drowned, almost made a part of the perfect stillness in the air.
She could feel her brother smile. “You did not think the Dreamer would be without his guardians, did you?” He sounded different, empowered. A deep, tonal harmony flowed beneath each word.
“You know what we shall face?” she asked, feeling the fugue begin to lift from her thoughts.
Xavier nodded. “The Black Templar. An automaton set by the Ancients to guard the true entrance to the Dreamers' sanctuary.”
Amilia saw Ziethal's hand drift to the hilt of one of his swords. She laid her palm against his arm. “Peace,” she told him. “Trust in your lord.”
“Yes.” Xavier started forward once more as the Templar drew nearer. “You must both trust in me.”
She could see the guardian now, advancing with heavy, ponderous steps. It towered above Xavier; would have towered above any man, animate in night-dark armor, its face hidden behind a featureless helm. It cradled a long, black-bladed axe in its arms.
Breathless, she watched it come to a halt before Xavier, setting the haft of its weapon to the ground. When it spoke, the floor beneath her seemed to quake, as though its lifeless voice came thundering from deep below.
“None may enter here.” Amilia felt her heart falter at the words, so certain; so damning. “The Seal of the Durance must not be broken. Begone.”
A moment passed in which Xavier said nothing, standing motionless, studying the Templar. If they waged some private war of wills, Amilia could sense nothing of it.
As time settled past, she noticed the lights grow dim, casting the statuary into what now seemed ominous shadows. Sudden unease filled her, dread at this black, looming specter and its implacable stance. It made no overt threat, but she could not deny an almost primal terror seeping into her as she gazed into it eyeless visage.
“No.” Xavier's answer shuddered with power. “I have come to fulfill the legacy of the Ancients. Lay down your arms, Templar, and permit my passage.”
The darkness deepened, and somehow, without movement, the Templar held its axe in ready hands. “The gate must not be opened. No wayward feet shall profane this holy ground. Begone.” The hall trembled, seeming to draw close about them. She was all but blind, now.
“I will not suffer to be impeded,” Xavier proclaimed, taking a step forward. “Stand aside, guardian.”
The same pitiless voice came once more, far closer, resonating in Amilia's ears. “You seek to thwart the designs of entities whose genesis far surpasses your meager comprehension of time. Turn aside, or meet judgment.”
Silence stretched on, in which Amilia began to feel abandoned in the stifling gloom. She reached out, but could not find Ziethal beside her. She was too terrified to speak.
Then the black burst asunder, shattered by radiance as a sword of fiery power awoke in Xavier's grasp. She could see him now, standing undaunted, but the gloaming hall did not return. Whatever spell the Templar had evoked remained, consuming all else. It stood once more revealed in the Lore-light her brother had conjured, but it seemed a hollow thing, barely raising a glint from its shadowy armor.
“This is your answer?” It sounded from everywhere now, the moaning words echoing and reechoing through the lightless world. “So be it. You have sown a ruinous harvest this day.”
With effortless might, the axe fell, crashing into Xavier's guard and driving him back beneath the weight of the blow. Ziethal was at her brother's side in an instant, both swords drawn and spinning in a frenzy, ringing against black iron again and again. To no avail. Amilia doubted whether there was anything beneath the armor to wound.
“Dear sister,” Xavier called to her, sounding not at all distressed as he shoved the Templar's weapon aside. “Look to me. Forget your fear. You are not helpless.”
For a moment, Amilia thought she saw him turn and smile, filling her with the warmth of his love. But, no, he was pressing back now, his blazing weapon driving at the Templar. Fire shone in his eyes. It was enough.
The spell was broken. Words came rushing to the forefront of her mind now, a sonnet of pure power that even the soulless knight would not be able to resist. From the heartstone of her faith, her boundless devotion to the Seven Gods, Amilia found her voice. She began to sing the Septagrammaton.
The Templar's command of his domain was absolute. As they fought, it shifted in and out of the shadowy ether, fading to nothing just as Xavier's blade would find it mark. Its heavy strikes came without warning, the axe appearing in a flickering haze and hammering down, shrieking with power. Shoving Xavier aside, Ziethal took a blow to his back that sent him sprawling. Smoke rose from the wound, and despite his greatest effort, he could not stand.
Amilia could feel the might building within her, the rising cadence of her Cant. She was floating now, held aloft on white-glowing winds, light pouring from her eyes and mouth. As her thunderous invocation came to its climax, the Templar reeled, overwhelmed by the sight of her unveiled. Her brilliance left it naked, stripped of the sorcery that armored its ancient spirit. As Xavier's strokes fell, they now rent its sable gown, filling the wounds with liquid flame.
All about them, the darkness began to relent, returning to lambency in the yawning hall before Amilia's light surged out, blinding, spreading like the mantle of the sun. The Templar said nothing, made no cry as its armor began to dissolve. Its pain, however, was palpable. Had she not been enthralled by the ecstasy of her Cant, Amilia would have wept. That armor was far from empty. Beneath its seamless surface was a living soul, a mind that had looked out upon ages of the world and known centuries of unyielding duty, ever-faithful. And now it was dying.
She seared it. With the fire of the same Gods the guardian had no doubt served for all its life, she burnt away the force that held it animate. There was no relenting, no mercy. This was justice; cold, holy justice against which no earthly force could stand. The Hierophant spoke and the Seven gave answer. With a final, resounding word, she completed the Cant. The utterance blasted the Templar apart, scattering the dissolving fragments of its armor into the vastness of the chamber.
The silence that followed was appalling, lasting only for an instant, but it stretched like an abyss through the sacred hall, at once taking in and spreading the wrongness of what Amilia had just done.
With a sigh, she fluttered to the ground, returning to herself and collapsing in a heap. She lay there shivering, numbed by her channeling, until she felt her brother's hand across her forehead, caressing, pushing her hair aside with tender concern. He was smiling now, truly, and speaking soothing words. Amilia felt a serene coolness envelop her, and she slept.