Through heavy lids, Omid blinked several times as something had entered his peripheral vision and was now touching his face. He *could* reach up to brush it out of the way and discern its nature, but that would require precious energy that had already gone into standing up and keeping himself from wobbling too much. Just a minute longer and he would remember how to walk, and probably how to lift his hand up to his face instead of limply hanging at his side as he steadied himself while wearing only one boot. To ask Sareen where the wayward footwear had gotten to would be to admit defeat.

And there she was just happily crunching away at those strange blue cubes inbetween flashing him a small smile and showing absolutely zero signs of exhaustion.

Which was cause enough to force himself to raise a hand to his face and brush away the...hair? He set about rebraiding the curly lock as he trudged onward with speech, as to not let her win too much. “What...manner of food is that?”

“The best kind!” She said with another loud crunch, followed shortly by a low grinding noise as her eyes lit up. Though not, Omid thought, as much as they had lit up when- “I am afraid you would not enjoy them, being this metallic.”

As he finished braiding the stray lock of hair Omid fought against letting his eyes grow too wide at that revelation, and seeing her crunch away at it like it was nothing. Turning away to gaze around the room helped hide the surprise. “Well I *would* hate to damage my teeth.”

“Yes, I need those to remain functional and as sharp as they are now.” She said.

And Omid knew the sound of that smile by now in her voice: absolutely overjoyed with a vaguely threatening undercurrent. Another crunch and he was now very certain that she was showing off how much restraint she was capable of with those teeth. That could tear right through him. Which was plenty of cause for fear and absolutely nothing else that recent events would contradict. That shiver going down his spine was one of fear and nothing else. And there was absolutely no pride to be found in having drawn blood from such a woman in turn.

And was he really still trying to lie to himself after all that?

“Leopard catch your tongue?” Her voice like poison woke him from his daze. He ran a hand down his face, straightened out his beard, and turned from staring bleary eyed at tapestry covered walls to her with a raised brow.

“No, I believe that was you.” No sooner than a smile had crossed his lips had Sareen gone from a splayed out sitting position to on her feet and crossing the distance between them. All in one impossibly smooth and quick motion that Omid didn’t fully catch.

Her eyes were once again staring into his as she had that tooth filled smile across her face, all while leaving hardly any space between them.

“You didn’t even blink this time.” Sareen’s smile somehow grew wider. “That is but one reason you’re so much fun.”

Omid leaned down until his forehead connected with hers, still not blinking. “Only fun?”

She responded with a quick peck on the lips and an even faster bite to the exact spot on his lower lip that had *just* finally stopped tasting of blood. “*So* much more, and with such potential. Which is why we need to get to work.”

Before Omid could offer any reaction, her hand was clasped around his and dragging him along and back towards the spiral stairs. Just past the threshold, Omid spied his elusive boot and quickly snatched it with a free hand while continuing to hobble along. Moving around like this, and now ascending those cursed stairs, was a great deal harder with the addition of a number of bruises, bites, other small injuries, and feeling even more exhausted than climbing a wall with only a vine for aid.

Inbetween floors, and having already lost count of how many floors had gone by, Omid stopped just in time to avoid crashing into a halted Sareen. With nary a warning, she spun around on her heels and put an open palm to Omid’s chest. She gained the smallest frown before lifting his green tunic to place her hand against his skin, and Omid wondered for a second if he was going about to end up even more bruised and bitten. Instead, the dark flesh of her hand glowed in a familiar cold light as he felt...better?

He felt pain vanish from his body, broken skin stopped stinging, bruises no longer had their dull ache, and amongst other things that rib he had been trying not to think about stopped its ache with every breath. Breath that was already gone as he looked down at a Sareen with narrowed eyes and focused frown. She pulled her hand away and replaced the frown with a small smile and a nod.

“As much fun as it is seeing my effect on you, I need you in good health.” She said as she continued dragging Omid up the stairs, now unhindered by his previous limping. “Minus a small reminder.”

The taste of blood on his lip still lingered and though he was still walking along unevenly with boot in hand, Omid noticed he hadn’t been feeling any of the disorientation of this spiral stairway from earlier. He wondered if that was a final test or if this was just what their...relationship was to be like. Whatever that relationship was going to be. 

Relationship.

Focus, Omid told himself.

He focused his gaze on Sareen walking up the stairs in front of him, and how nicely her clothes hugged her-

He focused his gaze on the stone walls, and the tiny geometric spirals carved into them that were occasionally broken up by a window so tiny that let in little else but light. Light enough, or rather lack thereof, to tell him it was late at night and he had completely lost track of time.

Through many questions Omid was avoiding, there was one that was better to ask as soon as possible.

“Can you teach me that healing spell?” He asked Sareen as she led them to another door that had seemingly materialized on a landing without warning while he wasn’t looking. “I have never heard of nor witnessed one so effective.”

Sareen opened the door as she looked at him out of the corner of her eyes. “It will take quite some time, and even for you it may not work. That spell is quite advanced for those not so attuned to the elements. For us, it is a simple matter of controlling a native element. And for me? Humans are clay in my hands.”

The woman dragged Omid into an unusually dimly lit room of a large stone bas relief mounted to a wall.

“Except of course, the clay that thinks it can sculpt the sculptor.” She said as her hand squeezed his for a moment, lingered and let go. “The clay that thinks it can sculpt the sculpture, and may even be right.”

She wasn’t meeting his eyes, only staring at the large bas relief and the scene it had of three figures on it. Three and a space that was notably blank. Omid was busy finally pulling his boot on, hopping around on one foot, mid hop when that particular arrangement clicked in his head like a door unlocking.

“I’ve seen that before.” The young man said, walking closer to the large stonework on finally even footing. “They were a bit different when last I saw them.”

Omid pointed towards the three figures who were this time an avian figure of a different type, a serpent with wings in addition to the feathers, and the horrifying looking human was decidedly less human this time though still in possession of that unique state that almost looked like he was wearing a second set of skin.

Sareen was as silent as she was still for an uncomfortable moment or several, the time blurring as Omid’s eyes drifted over to her and her uncharacteristic behavior. Her eyes remained on the empty spot when she finally spoke.

“Whenever they do appear, they all have many forms. Often similar.” She stated, soft voice holding a tone bordering on reverential. 

Omid fidgeted on the spot, resting a hand on his belt as he went ahead with the obvious question. “And who exactly are they?”

The woman crossed her arms, tilting her head to the right and still kept her eyes locked on the bas relief. “My kind, Milizmiq, even The Old Men and other Izdoroth. All of us have origins older than you could imagine. And though we may…*disagree* on who the most ancient type may be, we all know that *they* came first.”

She raised a finger to point towards the trio at the mention of ‘they’ who were surrounding the circular object. The object had a slightly geometric design of plenty of straight lines within the circle itself, and to Omid it reminded him of some depictions of any one of the suns.

Omid crept with the smallest of steps towards Sareen, taking a place at her side to press onward with the investigation. “Are they...gods?”

“They have been called that, and perhaps they are. Perhaps they are something greater. But my peoples’ oldest histories indicate that The Four are at the very least older than any gods you may know.” Indigo eyes remain locked on the stone, and after turning his head just slightly rather than staring Omid could see that impossible spark of suspected fear once more on her face. Eyes pleading for another explanation, lips turned down into a small frown, and breathing too measured and regular to be truly calm.

Wait, four?

“Four?” The young man asked, eyes darting back to the very explicitly three figures and an empty space.

“Four.” Sareen confirmed, eyes narrowing as her hands fell to her side to ball into fists. “One of them is more active than the others, and some time ago it would seem some mortal or perhaps even something supernatural...had a disagreement with him. And depending on who you ask, there was either a push to erase all images of him from record or he was so incensed that he struck all images of *himself* from the land. A laying low of all those who would still dare to invoke his name and his form.”

The rational part of Omid’s mind was trying to put all of this to memory as best as possible. An ancient history from before humanity had possibly even existed, and a story that could answer as many theological questions as it would raise. All on a scale so vast that it would change everything, or too grand to change anything.

The possibly irrational part of Omid’s mind was starting to worry. For Sareen. The woman of extreme power and without a second thought as to taking a life or keeping so many captive. The Kirzallan that was now scared of something.

Omid’s hand twitched out towards her the tiniest bit, hesitating and laying it back at his side as the thought of why exactly this predicament was eating at him. Whether because this was solely because it was some kind of threat beyond belief, or because seeing her even the tiniest bit fearful was troubling him in some way he wasn’t going to put a name to.

But questions were always a good distraction, and knowledge was always to be sought.

“This entity now threatens you for some reason?” He asked.

The woman’s head tilted in the other direction, all the way to the left. “I don’t know.”

Her words hung in the dead air and dim light, until she turned to him once more.

“He is...change. He is an ascension to power or a reduction to nothing. The rise of an empire or its fall. Though I have not seen his actions directly I have heard the stories from kin. He is change, and there is no stopping him. There is only the attempt to play whatever game it is that he is playing and come out victorious alongside him.”  She blinked, eyes focusing in on that blank spot on the stone. “And that obsidian disk you were given? It means that he is here, and his eyes are upon us.”

Omid had lost control of the frown that crept across his thin lips, and the glance to the side over at Sareen. The only thing that kept him from feeling severely called out was her serious demeanor. “I thought you liked the unknown?”

Sareen scoffed, neck straightening out but eyes still forward. “With you, there are no outcomes that will end me. And we promised one another to be there for eachother.”

“And I meant that.” Omid said. “That didn’t change after learning my world was on the line, and it will not change with the appearance of an even greater foe.”

She turned her head to stare through him. “And you are doing that despite having believed for so long that I would kill you if you stepped out of line.”

Omid tensed as she once again proved herself to have been carefully observing him. It was his turn to keep his eyes forward. “Would you have?”

“Perhaps. Depending on the transgression.”

“So I was right.”

Sareen had completely turned her body towards Omid, indigo eyes narrowing even further to study him. “The danger of it all doesn’t scare you off, does it?”

Omid sighed and in honor of how things had changed, he dropped the careful calculations and mental games and precise adherence to rules he wasn’t even aware of. “No, I think I like it.”

Silence was becoming too common here, Omid thought. Not the awkward kind, but the thinking man’s silence. The kind to really let one consider what had just been said, of admissions that even one’s self did not expect.

“You are very strange, Omid.” Sareen noted, smile finally returning and audible in her speech. “A strange man is perfect for strange times.”

“You are too kind, Sareen.” Omid said and had but a moment to smile before the woman burst into laughter, holding a hand to her mouth as though she preferred none others to see her in such a state. And Omid’s smile reversed in an instant from the complete confusion. “I meant it!”

“I know!” The woman said in between laughs and tears, taking far too long to regain her composure as Omid should have had a moment to reconsider everything. To think of how this was all a terrible idea and he should flee and leave it up to someone more capable. The wild look in those fiery indigo eyes and smile that looked ready to devour him as she finally did compose herself would tell a normal man to run far away. Now that passion wasn’t burning white hot and reflection could take hold, a reasonable conclusion could be reached.

Omid reached out a hand to brush a strand of long, midnight black hair behind Sareen’s ear that had fallen loose from all the laughing. “I believe we have a war party to plan? One in which there will be plots enough to secure power and impress a being of unimaginable power?”

“I am already quite impressed.” Sareen said as she caught his hand in her own after he had fixed her hair. She locked eyes with him. “You know people are probably going to die there, don’t you?”

“I can try to prevent those as necessary.” Omid said as he interlaced his fingers with hers, answering her smile with his own.

“Some may be necessary.”

“And you should probably still tell me those plans so that we may plot together.” 

The woman raised a brow, but gave a single nod. “Then let us begin.”