In the Shadow of Champoor
The Palace of Shattered Glass
"There's a great difference between what a creature can do," Rufar said, eyes narrow as he too the measure of the young woman sitting across from him, "and what they will do . . . a lesson you would do well to remember."
Thinking hard on her questions, Rufar stroked the dark, bristly hair sprouting from his chin. "A dark dragon is the true mistress of Champoor, but she is a distant patron to many." As he continued to think, he turned his gaze to the glimmering lanterns that hung from the ceiling, the orange light dancing in his eyes. "Many foul gods call Champoor their home, and while the city's common riff-raff often owe their fortunes to one or more, only the priests of the black shroud are truly their servants."
With a sudden intensity, Rufar turned his eyes toward Mirai once more. "Be careful if you would court them in their home, the House of Candles, for they follow strange faiths and keep stranger ways. Do not trust them, for to them, lies might be holier than the truth."
Darktangle - The Sunlight Grotto
There in the dark of the Den of Vapors, the woman called Flame Within wore a worried look across her face. She could not believe the darkness of this place, or the people who called it home. That this man could kill so casually and be reprimanded for nothing more than his indiscretion seemed unthinkable. "I think I have come to the wrong shore," she said, eyes downcast as she searched for answers within. "If you would walk with him," she said, turning to Glint, "then I won't be able to follow you any longer." Turning away, she stepped out into the darkness and the fog of vapor, hoping she'd find the answers she needed elsewhere . . .
The trek back through the tangle of tunnels and sewers passed slowly, stretching on as long as the reach of those rank, filth encrusted catacombs could. As the journey continued, their path pulled them further and further from the surface, winding into the ground and brushing places that had scarcely known the face of a sun-touched creature in centuries. A faint skittering could be heard over the walls, slick with slime and condensation. The air was cool and dark, the manticore bristled as their path took them into yet another narrow passage. Up ahead, however, they could barely make out a faint, golden iridescence, warming the cold, dark cavern with its light.
Finally, they had arrived. The tunnel opened into a grander cavern. Water ran down the walls in small, quiet waterfalls and trickled from long stalactites overhead, pooling a few meters down in a great, clear pool that shown like a mirror. The rock of the place was dotted here and there with clusters of crystal, pulsing in their presence with a faint, golden illumination, as if it reflected the light of the sun that burned within their souls. Across the pool, a lone, rocky bridge stretched, and from the platform on the other side, twin staircases, carved from the cold rock itself, curled up a temple's edifice.
This was Glint's sanctum.