Chapter 78: The Speaker Of Veins
Within the lower terrace of one of the recently sanctified alcoves in Vaingall, Sarkha’una, the Speaker of Veins, stood barefoot in her sanctum.
"Now that most of my materials have been replenished," Sarkha’una lazily smiled. "Might as well make the most of my first request in a while."
The room was structured like a burrow—hollowed from rock, laced with moss-veined roots, lined with shelves fashioned from aged fungal planks.
Each surface overflowed with bottles, phials, crushed seeds, preserved organ petals, and small wax-sealed canisters of bone-powder tinctures.
In the center of the room, a spiraling mortar made of stone and coiled with embedded veins of fossilized resin spun gently in suspension.
Sarkha’una rotated her wrist slowly, pouring pale green extract into the top funnel of the mixer. Below it, a slow, bubbling churn was taking place, reacting with powdered tendril husk already suspended in moon-crushed liquid.
The scent of burnt citrus and salt-spiced wood filled the air.
"Looks like one of the Endless One’s minions is here."
"I’m more or less an extension of her, instead of a lowly and subdued minion who nary aligns with the future she tries to carve."
A Blessed Limbo Tier Divine Construct hovered nearby. Its silhouette flickered with faint pulses, the inner voidlight glimmering through the fractured shell of ash and dust that composed its limbs.
"Your way of speech is the same too." Sarkha’una chuckled. "The same boasting, wisdom-filled old pot who can’t help but to churn as many words to those who seek the curiosities."