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Wren stormed out of the keep and went straight for home. The whole situation made his head hot, but he decided not to think much of it. His uncle wouldn't tell him what was going on, so he decided to look under himself. At midnight he would travel light & swift, avoiding guards and the like until he reached one of the many storm drains that led into the dungeons. They were never cleaned and smelled far worse, but Wren could think of no other way to enter into the dungeons.
Halfway through the storm drain, he stopped, and thought in his mind if this had to be done. Something was going on deep in the dungeons, & Wren was the only one who knew about it, much less stop them. He brought an iron dagger with him, but shuddered at the idea of using it. He was never as battlehardy as his father, & thought of bloodshed as an unnecessary risk taken in warfare.
As he landed on the ground, he heard a splattering sound. Wren was about to vomit as the excrement and other nameless horrors that lay on the ground were inches deep. He trudged through the refuse and litter in his boots, covering his mouth in disgust. The putrid trail went on for about 3 whole minutes, and after that he could feel damp stone on the heel of his boots. He smelled terrible, but it was something he was going to bear in order to find out the truth.
It was cold and wet, and there was very little light aside from the torches placed on the corners of the tunnels. Insects skittered away as Wren passed by, probably repulsed from his terrible odor. He reached a fork in the tunnels, and decided to go left, not knowing what lay ahead. He could he the faint sound of footsteps and voices, but it was too weak for him to try and listen to. As he got nearer, the sound intensified to the point where he could hear what was being said.
"... not enough time." one voice said.
"We must!" the other exclaimed. "Lord Romulus expects us to finish the experiments and dissapear, Advarin! You knew the risks when we agreed to his offer?
Advarin scoffed. "I didn't know Romulus wanted this! It's far too dangerous for the both of us, Sohrin. We have to get back to Du Weldenvarden. The Butcher awaits..."
"By the gods, Advarin," Sohrin said in utter horror. "He's awake! Actually awake!" Wren tried to get closer, but his position would be exposed if he looked at what was troubling both of them, who Wren deduced to be elves of Du Weldenvarden, but not of Ellesmera.
Wren crouched low and crawled, sticking his head out in the open, but all he could see was Advarin fiddling with a sharp knife, trying to cut loose something. As he did, Wren heard metal clunk and steam hissing. The sound of gears rotating put him on edge, but he had to keep calm.
"...can you hear me?" Sohrin said in the distance. The mechanical noise changed in tone, and Wren guessed that it was from the machine that had been awakened.
"Romulus will be most pleased!" Advarin said haughtily. "T'was not the elves of Ellesmera who wrought this creature of iron and flesh, but the Grey Elves of Ilia Feon! Long live Lord Quenyar!"
"Long live Lord Quenyar!" Sohrin exclaimed in fealty, but suddenly the mechanical sounds changed, and in a splitsecond Wren heard splattering noises and muffled grunts. He ran to the room where he heard Sohrin and Advarin, but all he found was blood everywhere and the mangled bodies of the Grey Elves. Advarin had been ripped to pieces, but Sohrin lay near the walls, a large spear of steel deep in his chest. Wren sprinted to Sohrin and asked him for answers.
"What happened!?" he shook Sohrin, who was half-dead and numb with fear.
"I-it... has begun.." Sohrin said weakly, hacking out blood. "The Anima lives again... L-long live-!" he coughed for a few seconds violently and then became still.
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