Things had been notably getting worse, ever since earlier in the year when she had come back to survey the capitol and found strange, walking skeletons that seemed to have a moldlike substance holding them together. A new effect of the Chaos, she'd realized, and it had kicked her search for the core of the infection into high gear.
She had tried so many different places, seeking answers. All but one, really. The old libraries, smaller temples, even the palace's archives, but none had given her the answers she sought.
There was one place left. And she had not come alone, this time.
"Thank you for coming with me," she told Frigoris. "I...know that I must do this, but it still feels strange. Wrong."
The grand archives in the heart of the capitol had been sacred ground, once. Built around what was said to be the greatest and purest of Dagon's healing salt-springs, only the highest initiates of Dagonite faith had been allowed to cross that boundary. She had never set foot beyond the great bronze doors, decorated with reliefs depicting the first Dagon's slaying of the Great Leviathan and extraction of its heart.
The very heart she now sought.
She'd told Frigoris the whole tale; that she believed the Chaos was bound to that ancient, sacred relic, and that she needed to find where and how to raise the temple it was enshrined in from its legendary place in the watery depths. If it was even real. If this was a lead, and not another minnowchase.
The doors opened at her touch, and she stepped over the threshold.
"We'll likely have to head quite deep in, to the oldest texts. I've never bene in this archive, but I know how our priests used to organize them. Once we are there--I know you won't be able to read the Dagonite, but the covers of these old books are often illustrated. Hearts, knives, or the anchor symbol, since it would be to do with the first Dagon."
Orangeish Sherbert
