Ahn’rah’s clawed feet landed with a thud on the surface of Hallath’s Trove Moon, causing black dust to roll into the air along with tiny flecks of silver and gold. The large blue Topavarian gave himself a slight shake before making his way toward the large Dragon-made crater just ahead. The leather bag around his neck hung heavy with papers, brushes, ink stones, and stone slabs. If there was one thing Ahn’rah had gotten right in his conversation with Turimiil, it was Hallath’s next task for him.
He stepped down onto the stone slabs that slowly spiraled down into the moon’s core, soft black rock eventually giving way to rough red marble. The walls had different assortments of lights impaled between cracks or mounted with nails and poor welding, from glowing rods to bright luminous gemstones. Hallath’s trophies were utilized even here, in simple stair lighting.
Eventually, the stone pit widened out, revealing the massive hollowed out center of the moon. Floating globes of white lights littered the air above the gigantic mounds of sorted items. The light glinted off of silver, gems, steel, polished stone, and most of all, gold. The ground at the bottom had been polished smooth for easy walking, and the walls were adorned with trinkets, paintings, and baubles. Right in the center, however, was an impressively lush nest of fine fleeces and furs from all four Fae courts.
Ahn’rah continued down the stairs that jutted from the wall, eyes skimming over the paintings and golden figures embedded in it. He had been walking past them after every Dive for the better part of his life, most of them having been struck into the stone before he had even hatched. He tore his eyes away once he felt his feet touch the cold red marble floor, instead looking at the piles of new treasures adorning what was typically an empty section of floor.
Ahn'rah quickly jotted down the inventory as he worked down the line, scratching each group of items into the face of a stone slab with his claws. For as cumbersome as they were, he still wasn’t used to the parchment and brush and avoided it when he could. The Fae had been using them for hundreds of years now, but his hands weren’t exactly made for the cumbersome brushes and delicate paper. He still brought them anyway, in case he ran out of slabs.
The items were all newly deposited from their most recent Dive as Hallath’s share from the latest round of plundering and thieving. Most of the haul were typical marks that Hallath tended to bring back each trip. Like usual, there were several crates of dried herbs from the Spring Court’s planet of Myrranthor, as well as a good number of barrels filled with wine, mead, and ale mostly from the Autumn Court’s planet, Relictumire. There were even two small, six foot tall pots made of clay that, upon a quick peak, held root vegetables and fruits from Rathsah, the Summer Court’s planet. The usual haul of gemstones from the Winter Court planet of Glacora, however, was strangely small, hardly filling half of a barrel.
As Ahn’rah continued down the line, he began to feel his stomach turn. A pile of weapons, decorations, statues, implements, and religious tools were piled together on the ground. Some were broken and battered from travel, while others were coated in dried blood, dirt, and even gore. He could even spot a decaying finger among the pile, having adhered to the side of a decorative blade.
It took several minutes before Ahn’rah could continue logging inventory, doing his best to shove away the memories that threatened to bubble up in his head, like how bile creeps up one’s throat. He had only ever been on one Dive with the Trove Divers in his entire time working under his father, and he never wanted to go on one again. The cruelty he witnessed that time alone was enough for a thousand years. He hoped he would never have to see anything like it again.
His feet moved quicker, claws writing faster as he continued with the piles of stolen goods, noting stacks of books, scrolls, and assorted inactive runes, all things he knew his father likely would only look at and never really touch. There were wands and staves, strewn jewelry, magic-lit braziers, and even broken bits of Leystones. Most, however, were drained and could barely glow.
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After two hours of jotting down items and noting their appearances, Ahn’rah finally finished with his work. He let out a heavy sigh, tucking his slabs back into the bag round his neck. Eager to leave, he turned and headed toward the stairs, though he only managed to place one foot on the stone before freezing in place.
There, hidden under the stone stairs, was a humanoid shape, much larger than any Fae he had seen or heard of before. The thought of his father bringing home a body of all things terrified him, and yet he had no choice but to look. He slowly stepped off of the stairs and walked around them, getting a better view of this hidden ‘treasure’ his father had hauled in.
It was some sort of large clay golem, slumped with its back against the wall and legs spread straight out. Its arms hung limply at its sides and its head was resting on its chest. Grass and strange flowers had bloomed from its shoulders and head, just beginning to show the first signs of wilting. Whatever had remained of its face had been covered by the plant life growing off of it, leaving nothing more than one visible sealed socket. It didn’t seem to have a mouth at all, though.
“Just what are you?” Ahn’rah whispered to no one in particular, slowly circling the thing. If he guessed right, it would likely be nine or so feet tall if it could stand. “Are you alive? Hello?” He nudged the thing’s shoulder, but it didn’t move one bit, not even after a more forceful prod. The figure seemed to be a statue now whatever it was, the arm showing great resistance to any sort of bending.
After a few moments more of inspection, Ahn’rah spotted a deliberate line in the back of its head. He slowly followed it down the thing’s neck and between its shoulder blades until it reached a circular plate of green marble in the center of its back. Several different runes were carved along the edges of it, with a larger one in the center. All of them, however, glowed a rather dull orange.
Immediately Ahn’rah backed away, cursing under his breath. Was this thing a weapon? Some sort of sleeping Fae? Was it alive, or just molded like that to feel less intimidating? The only thing Ahn’rah knew for sure was that it had the potential to be dangerous. The Runeplate, which he assumed was still active due to the glow, could be capable of anything. He regretted his lack of knowledge on runes, but if he could deduce one thing from it, it would be that it’s likely not triggered by movement. After all, it wouldn’t have been exactly a smooth ride, being carried or dragged across planets or through the Aether for however long they’d kept it.
“Caelmer would know what you are…” he muttered, taking a step back to glance over the thing again before nodding to himself. This would be the perfect excuse to bring Cael into the Trove Moon, and perhaps the first steps toward an escape plan, if he was lucky enough. “... Just don’t get lost in this treasure-mess before then.” he smiled at the golem, choosing to find some semblance of hope in this potentially dangerous thing.
With that, Ahn’rah began to climb the stairs back up to the mouth of the cavern, thoughts swimming through his brain and begging for answers. Can the golem provide some sort of leverage for him and Turimiil to gain refuge with one of the Courts? Or perhaps the Runeplate on its back was valuable enough for someone to hide them away? Maybe, just maybe, it could provide some way to stop the Trove Divers from Diving at all, or at least for long enough to make a difference.
A quiet yet ringing echo of breath rose from the bottom of the Trove Moon, and Ahn’rah felt a horrid shiver run through his scales. He turned at the top of the steps to look down, as if a grass-covered face of clay would be looking up at him from the bottom. But, of course there was nothing. Just a dark pit of red and black rock.
Ahn’rah stared down into the moon for another few minutes, waiting to hear a repeat of the noise, but nothing came. Instead, he could hear a somewhat distant flap of wings outside of the crater, and he turned to see none other than his father approaching from the air. He quickly made his way out as Hallath began calling his name and beckoning him over, putting the noise to the back of his mind for now. As much as he hated it, the last thing he needed now was for his father to think he wouldn’t come when he was called.
