Chapter 228: Fracture XXXIII
There was a flickering blur as our surroundings changed. One moment, I could see the familiar figures of my regiment through the oscillating black wreath of the privacy dome, slow tension building as they awaited the command to breach the sewers. Then the dome and the world beyond it fell away, replaced with another that was entirely different.
Long rows of dark-stained oak bookshelves and the occasional glass display buttressed a wide center space of marble tile, tall ceiling interrupted by a generous center skylight framing soft beams of illumination emanated by unfamiliar moons in the dark firmament beyond. Braziered torches stood like diminutive pillars, their combined heat raising the temperature in the room just beyond comfortable, shining dimly on silver inlays that sprawled a jagged geometric pattern too broad to parse.
Ozra, having returned to his typical appearance—I hesitate to call it true, though if it is not, I have yet to see his true face—of a tall, domineering man with harsh, angular features, strode towards the center, arms clasped behind his back, tails of his gray coat trailing behind him. The arch-fiend tilted his head back and proclaimed, "I, Ozra, Arch-fiend of the Asmodial Legion, call upon Loria, Diadem of the Fetid Wastes, to serve as my second."
A fountain of stinking red spurted upwards, filling the air with the scent of copper and rot before its curtains parted to reveal a woman's slim silhouette, thickening waves of crimson cascading down her form and solidifying into a dark-red garment, the long fringes that descended to just below her knees asymmetrical and uneven, reminiscent of dangling intestines. A tall pile of viscous matter accumulated atop her smooth head, macabre color fading as it became fibrous, forming an elegant lady's wig. She curtsied low, looking up towards the arch-fiend with an impish grin. "It is my pleasure to serve."
"We recognize the equivalency of this appointment, and accept its authenticity," Maya said dryly, glaring daggers at the new arrival, the faintest hint of mockery in her voice as she matched Ozra's overly formal tone. Like them, her wardrobe had also changed, light armor replaced with traditional infernal robes.
Only Annette, Vogrin, and I remained unaltered, intentionally out of place.
Loria started at the sound of Maya's voice, eyes darting back and forth from us, to Ozra, to the room itself. "Ah. Will I be serving as your second in a... traditional capacity this day?" She frowned slightly, as if puzzled.
"Yes, my gem. You will serve as scribe, and proctor, to ensure the intercessor's grasp does not exceed her reach," Ozra's lip pulled back unpleasantly as he glanced at Maya over his shoulder.
"Traditional indeed. But it has been some time since I've held a quill." The woman crossed her arms and murmured quietly, fingers plying nervously at her collarbone. "There is a possibility I'll fall behind." Her lips parted, and she was about to say more before Ozra silenced her with a touch, running a thumb down her jaw.