A bell passed, the Seeker seething atop his mount as the mists in his gaze grew further saturated with electric blue streaks. Every cracking branch and bird call drew a rapid turn of his head, struggling to focus on the source of the sounds. At last he spotted what he was looking for, an old symbol carved into a far older tree, faded with age and difficult to spot for those who did not already know its existence. Alas, Khron had been the one to put it there. He slid from the bird’s feathered back, the creature only too happy to flee back toward home the moment it was free of its burden. And so he waited, glaring into the thick foliage around and above him, until some minutes later a voice finally answered.

It was a deep base that seemed almost to echo from the trees themselves, keeping the story-chasing Seeker pivoting in his quest to locate the source. “Amille warned me you may be coming, Walker of Fate.”

Khron practically panted now, ilms-long arcs of levin popping in the air around him, vanishing just as quickly as the eye could track them. “You know why I’m here, then. Where is she?”

“You know what the collar does, Khron. Your thoughts are as clouded as your eyes. I will not let you speak to her while you continue to let it rule you.” as the voice rumbled around him, seeming to deepen and swell slowly in volume, the branches and vines around him shuddered and stirred despite there being no wind to guide their motion.

“What you know of it only scratches the surface, Lex. If you do not take me to her, I will teach you the full story.” Khron growled out, still slowly circling, trying to track down the speaker. One of his arms extended and arcs began to jump from his fingertips to the ground below, white-hot flashes that scorched the grass and shrubs around his boots.

“Song does not know the location of what you have lost, Walker. Turn back, remove the collar, and find yourself once more.” Though the words seemed to be advice, the tone that echoed around him made the threat beneath it clear.

As it had at the tavern, once more did Khron’s voice seem haunted by an unnatural echo, following his words in a deeper, louder, more forceful shout. “You will stand aside, and she will answer to me!”

It seemed the Seeker’s poor luck in intimidation continued however, as the other’s response came back as if the voice of the jungle itself, battering his senses, pace ponderous but tone leaving no room for misinterpretation. “You will not threaten those in my care, Walker. Be gone!” 

As if to punctuate those final words, several vines peeled away from the trees that hosted them, twining together into one large mass that whipped through the leaves and slammed into the reeling Seeker, sending him tumbling several yalms through the undergrowth.

He threw a hand out to catch himself, still hunched low over the loamy ground as his other cast up and out, forked levin blasting out in a wide arc to rake wildly around him. Wood blasted free of tree and bush alike, splinters and shards flying through the air at deadly speeds as small fires and blackened wounds marked the path of destruction in a twenty yalm cone before him.

No cry of pain would offer him any satisfaction however, either he’d missed his mark, or the blow had been borne without injury. “You would unleash it on us? Then let us remind you what our true fury looks like.”

Shoots and vines ripped from the earth at his feet, clinging to his arms and legs, holding him still as a massive wooden growth shot forth from a tree nearby, slamming into him squarely. Once more the furious Seeker found himself tumbling and rolling, pain searing through his ribs as he sprawled in a nest of ferns, collapsed beneath his weight. When again his eyes forced themselves open against his injuries, there was no trace at all of the white clouds normally there. Instead they were entirely shot through with the electric blue of pure levin. That same deep echo followed his voice now, as he forced himself to his feet, turning back toward where he’d been hit. “I warned you I would teach you, Lex. I told y-”

As he turned he found himself face to face with a Roe woman towering over him. Written on her face was not a look of anger, but instead one of sorrow and intense disappointment. He shook his head, barely registering it, as he tried to reach for her, shouting once more.

“Song, tell me where she is!”

Before he could lay even a finger on her, however, she placed one of her own on the center of his forehead, simply uttering, “Go.”

That touch sent a searing pain through his head, and both of his hands withdrew to cradle it as he fell to his knees. A reactive blast of levin and thunder erupted from him outward in all directions as the collar attempted to ward off the new threat, but he would not see its effects. Slumping to the ground, he lost consciousness.

The heavy wooden door was slammed open, causing a few of the patrons to jump slightly in their seats, though a look of familiarity drew over several faces as a Seeker strode in. His clouded white eyes swirled slowly, simple traveler’s clothes covered in a layer of dust. “Oi, Khron, y’got any work for us?” a slightly slurred voice called out good-naturedly from a table near the entrance. It’s owner gave the bartender, a large Roe man, a confused raise of the brow as the typically chatty Seeker marched past without a word, headed straight for the only other door in the place, located beside the bar near the back.

As he neared his destination, the bartender slid out from his post, putting a hand up. “She ain’t taking visitors right now.” His tone was calm, almost apologetic, as if speaking to someone with whom he shared rapport.

Khron’s white eyes flashed briefly with streaks of bright blue as he looked up at the Roe. “Get out of my way, River.”

The curt response brought a frown to the much larger man’s lips, and he reached a hand out to clasp the Seeker’s shoulder reassuringly. “Khron, I don’t know wh-”

He was not given the chance to finish those words as the other’s arm lashed out as if to bat him aside, striking him in the chest. A ripple of aether followed the otherwise harmless blow, accompanied by a crack of thunderous sound that rattled the building as the Roe was stent staggering aside to slump over the bar, a quiet groan preceding ragged breaths. 

“I said move.” Khron’s voice had a strange ring to it as he spoke, almost as if a deeper bass voice echoed his every word a half-second after he spoke it.

Around the tavern others were reacting, a few slipped out the entrance quickly while others watched on in confusion, hands resting on hilts of daggers and blades. Before he could reach for the interior door, it opened of it’s own accord, revealing a half-dressed Elezen woman with a cutlass in hand. “What in the name of Llymlaen’s tits is going on out he-....Khron?”

Fierce green eyes narrowed as she took in the scene, her barman still recovering doubled over the bar, the tension in her customers, the slight tremble of the Seeker’s hands, the way his shoulders rose and fell with each panted breath, and....

”Oh Khron...” she sighed, tone patronizing and head shaking slightly, as she saw a telltale glow coming from beneath his collar. A maze of scars and tattoos covered the arm that rose up slowly, her fingers lightly tugging the fabric down enough to reveal a silver band around the Seeker’s throat, flashes of blue occasionally running through the woven strands of metal. She tsk’d as she confirmed her suspicions. “You know better, love.”

He swatted the hand away with a growl, jaw clenched firmly until he spoke. “Where is she?”

“I haven’t any a clue who you’re speaking of, but you can’t just -”

The blue crackling energy began to fill the clouded gaze that looked up at her again as he interjected. “I am not playing games, Amille, tell me where she is.”

“Ami, d’ya want us t’...?” The voice came from a Highlander man further in the room, himself half dressed and sat upon the bed inside, alongside a Midlander woman tucked beneath the sheets. Both held sheathed weapons as they looked to her.

The Elezen raised a hand, twisting it dismissively and took half a step forward, crowding the Seeker before her despite the audible aetheric pops and cracks that were beginning to manifest in the air around him.

“You forget yourself and where you are, Khron. You do not take that tone with me in my own home.” she scolded. As that crackling force began to build up around his hand once more, her own snapped forward, grabbing him by the chin and staring him in the eye in challenge. “Get ahold of yourself, you are behaving like a child.”

Khron let out a sustained growl, culminating in the slamming of his fist upon the bar beside him, once more rattling the entire structure as that buildup discharged again. “She isn’t there. The Tyrant is empty, only five of us know where it is, someone took her!” he shouted in accusation.

Amille’s gaze drifted briefly to the surface he’d struck, burn marks weaving out in a web as if it had been struck by a miniature bolt of levin. She locked eyes with Khron once more, her tone now carrying a dangerous edge. “Go home, Khron. Get out, and do not contact me again until you take that off.” “She-” he began to protest, fury evident.

This time her voice carried the same bass echo that his did. “Leave. Now.”

His jaw visibly clenched once more as he glared up defiantly at her for only a moment, before turning on his heel and storming out, a final boom accompanying the slam of the heavy door.

Her own shoulders drooped with exhaustion from whatever she’d done as River finally pushed himself up to stand beside her. “What was that?”

She shook her head to dismiss the question. “Contact Lex and Frozen Song, tell them Khron is wearing the collar. For his sake, I shall pray that he finds the sense to go home and remove it before he tracks down Aiden.”

A nod of acknowledgement came, followed by a level look. “Did you do it? Whatever he accused you of?”

Artificial light brightened the study of the vault, coming in through windows to nowhere as if the sun had found its way in, a mimicry that offered visibility but lacked the accompanying warmth. This seemed not to bother the sole occupant in the slightest as he wandered along the shelves full of books, weaving between piles of those already read, those being read, and other various papers and scrolls.

With some deliberation, he would pluck a trio of the tomes free of their homes before turning toward a nearby table.  The lamp overhead offered plenty of light to read by, and saved him the necessity of risking candles near such old and dry paper.  Various documents, maps, and miscellany were brushed aside, forming a rim of parchment around a semi-circle of open space upon which he deposited his selection.  

Beside him, having fallen just shy of being pushed off the table was another old journal, pages crinkled with age.  It sat open, a plain quill resting atop it, and words scrawled bells previously lingered on its page.  As Khron began to open one of the others, however, the quill came to life, caught out of the corner of his eyes, and as his gaze turned to look down upon it, written in neat cursive was: “And what are we wasting our time on, today?”

The Seeker rolled his eyes upon reading it, a gesture that might be easily missed given their swirling, clouded nature.  “How can one know it to be a waste before the journey through its pages has even begun?  A path unseen can lead to a story of wonder untold as easily as it may an afternoon unrecoverable from the vices of boredom.  One may only find out which by walking its steps.”

The quill’s scratchings broke the silence once more.  “Well I hope your path leads directly into a ditch filled with cold rain water and chocobo dung, and mine to more pleasant company.  You have brought me no news of Ul’dahn high society, nor gossip from the Houses of Ishgard.  Where is the intrigue?”

Khron snorted at that.  “What use for news of the high and mighty, whose feuds pass in but the blink of an eye in the tale of history when annals of entire civilizations lay hidden, waiting to be found and share their stories?  If one but looks inside to consult the heart, the path of their desires will cross with the threads of history to uncover that which hides out of sight, awaiting those who would seek and explore to bring forth tales once more in sorrow, inspiration, joy, and awe?”

A brief pause preceded the book’s response. “I am quite certain not even you know what you just said.”

Khron waved a hand dismissively.  “Because if my words fall flat to a book, that is what I should measure success by.  With skin of leather and body of vellum there resides within no brain for comprehension.  The thrill of adventure is lost on one who has never even entertained the thought of attempting, much less following through.  Within lies nothing but the animated memories of one who came before, ever locked within their quarters to mastermind the rise and fall of dynasties in the safe shroud of darkness, unknown but feared, never seen but more dangerous than the most venomous viper.  Though perhaps this truth remains shared twixt only you and I, I have not forgotten what lies beneath the veneer of propriety.”

The pause this time is longer, and when the quill finally takes to moving once more, its strokes are harsh and definitive.  “Take care how bluntly you remind me of my form, Wanderer, lest I one day fall into hands unshackled by morals such as yours.  Vengeance is a powerful motivator.”  

The swirling in Khron’s eyes came nearly to a standstill as he read those words, drawing himself up to his full height and speaking far more plainly than usual.  “You are a book, Archibauld.  A threat to no one, a benefactor of no one, and trusted by no one.  So long as breath fills my lungs, and blood pumps in my veins, I will see to it that never changes.  You will remain wreathed in that which you most despise: obscurity.  Deliberate on that for a time.”