Hot breath. The sound of blood coursing through oversized muscles. The gentle flickering of an unseen, terrible flame, deep within the flesh prison. Coremon figured he couldn’t be dead yet, otherwise these sensations wouldn’t be ripping into him as much as they were. Still, he barely moved a muscle. Every heartbeat, every breath felt like a betrayal, as he stared up into the wild eyes of the pale beast before him. It twitched, its head tilting a few degrees as it tried to vocalise something once again.

Dhahhddy.

It huffed, and bowed its head, seeming to be waiting for Coremon to respond. He swallowed, not breaking eye contact.

“Do...d-do you know me…?”

No answer. Not verbally at least. The beast tilted its head down, ever so slightly, looking just below Coremon’s eyeline. Then it looked up again, and its mouth twisted. Uncannily, unnaturally, and ungainly. An innocent smile if it had been wrought into place by staples and wire.

Dddaghddy!

“I don’t know what you’re saying!”

Coremon’s nerves got the better of him, and he backed up for a second, looking for any hint of aggression. But the beast didn’t move. It just stood there, waiting in expectation. Coremon gritted his teeth, and held his arm up, pressing it against his chest and clasping his mouth, trying to steady his breathing.

DAHDY WHERE

The sudden outburst made Coremon jump, as did the flash of white flame that burst from the side of the beast’s jaws. He pressed up further against the wall, his arms held wide beside him, waiting for the ash to claim him.

It didn’t. The lights dimmed down again, and the beast went back to its stony observation. The pair’s eyes met, and the beast shifted its maw again, attempting another smile with less successful results than the first time.

After a few seconds that felt like hours, Coremon tried to move again. He held his arms apart, keeping his posture open and unthreatening as he shimmied to one side.

The beast didn’t move. It only watched him, its eyes following him without question.

Coremon swallowed again, his mouth dry as he tried to adjust his focus, taking in everything else before him.

“I-I-I...I don’t know you. I’m sorry.”

He clenched one hand, digging his claws into his palm with enough force to leave marks, the pain keeping him focused. With a long, low breath, he allowed himself to take in where he was. His training as an Elite. His dedication as a Fire Soldier.

He opened his eyes again, the blue shining through. The beast’s own snapped towards his yet again, though it hadn’t moved in the slightest. Coremon bit his lip, moving in an open, and agonisingly slow arc around the hulking creature.

“I’ve never seen anything like you before...”

Despite himself, Coremon grinned, in a strangely placating manner.

“I’m not gonna do anything bad. Just don’t kill me, alright?”

Shkir

A different response, Coremon noted. No malice this time, though. He tiptoed sideways again, holding his hands in plain sight.

“Don’t go anywhere.”

Thump

Coremon jumped, as the beast suddenly and instantaneously sat down on its haunches, nodding its huge head.

Skhih

Coremon paused, feeling a pit in his stomach. But he suppressed it, replacing it instead with the inquisitive mind that he’d seen Mollumon use on so many occasions. Ever so slowly, and never turning away from the creature, he walked around, and took the opportunity to really take in his new acquaintance.

In terms of build, it looked like it should have been quadrupedal; built similarly to a large lion or hyena. It had broad, splayed paws, thin fuzz across its body, and a rough-looking mane over its back, tapering off into a bristly tail.

But in many respects its body seemed entirely artificial, and false. The proportions were all wrong; its hind legs overly long and coiled in a constant state of tension, whereas its forelegs were broad and tree-like, and so swollen with muscles that the very skin seemed to have split. Where it had, there were patches of skin over the top, with seams running across them, like they’d been stitched in place to fill in the gaps.

The beast’s body was similarly imbalanced; a brutal and titanic front frame, tapering off to a lithe and tightly drawn back. There were spots along its flanks; from a distance they had seemed like markings, but up close Coremon could see the actual tears in the skin, underneath which the bubbling white ash was visible. The same white ash, in fact, that seemed to be seeping from every joint and seam within the beast’s patchwork body.

And as he continued around, he found himself staring headlong into the beast’s head once again, and the horrifying mismatch that made that up. Bigger proportioned again than even the forelegs should have allowed, like a wedge of flesh stapled to the front. A wrinkled snout, ratty strands of hair, and oversized, jutting jaws that seemed too large for it, with lips that drew right back to where its neck was, laden with the ashen white teeth that glowed with a toxic haze. And its eyes seemed barely existent; pinpricks of lights within sunken in black patches in its top jaw, with nothing physical save for a constant, maddened glow, that hung around its sockets like a miasma.

Coremon swallowed, just remembering to stay facing the creature as he found himself drawn to those eyes once again.

“What in Yggdrasil’s name are you…”

Ghahc

Coremon started, but forced himself not to back away. The creature tilted its head a tiny amount, its gaze never leaving Coremon’s even in its awkwardly crouched state. Coremon gave a half-smile.

“You can make yourself more comfortable, you know.”

The beast moved. Only a small amount, just shuffling around on its haunches, enough to de-tension the hefty twist in its oversized neck. Then it stopped, as still as when it had started.

Coremon blinked. He looked down at the beast’s legs, then at his own hand.

“Hold your hand forwards.”

He gestured. The creature obliged, the great paw mere inches away from Coremon’s. He placed his own hand back.

“Stand up.”

It did, its legs splayed in a ready pose for running.

“And down again.”

Once again, its back half folded in, and it held itself in a sitting position. Coremon shook his head, biting his lower lip.

“You can’t be listening to what I’m saying...what the hell…”

Dhaddy

“Stop saying that!”

The beast’s face shifted, looking almost dejected. It lowered its head down, its jaws gently flickering, but still never breaking eye contact with Coremon.

Sshir

Coremon stepped back, holding a palm against his chin as he looked down. The catacombs felt eerily cold, despite him being within metres of the terrible flaming beast that he’d just glimpsed before. His eyes flicked up, darting from one side of the creature’s face to the other.

“Lie flat for me, please.”

There was no hesitation. The creature descended fully, holding its muscular forearms out wide, and pressing itself against the bare metal below. Coremon slowly padded forwards, looking up at the mountainous head, and the bulk of muscle that made up its neck. He got as close as he dared, holding up a hand as gentle orange flames lapped over it.

The beast didn’t react in the slightest. Not a growl, or a flinch. Just watching without complaint.

Coremon pulled back, sitting on his own haunches and holding his head in his hands.

“I don’t think I could kill you even if I tried…”

His head churned, looking for any sort of sense to the situation. And more importantly, what he could do with it. Killing it was going to be impossible here. Send it away? For something so obedient, he could lose control of where it was, and be sending it to unknowingly ravage other innocents. But if it was down here...why on earth was it down here…

His eyes snapped open once more, and he peered a little further down the tunnel, where the paths twisted in their myriad ways. He took a couple of steps, confirming what he thought he could see.

Then he nodded, and turned around, holding out a beckoning finger.

“Follow me.”

There was no response at all. The creature lay where it had fallen, its face hidden. Coremon moved back, looking it in the eye with his body facing front.

“I need you to do as I say. Follow me.”

Shkir

It stood up, and turned neatly in the tunnel, following after Coremon as he backed away. After a few metres, he stopped, and pointed sideways.

“Walk in there, turn around, and sit down.”

He waited, as the beast shuffled in. When it turned, it was with a litheness that seemed alien to it, though the little manticore thought he could hear stretching and cracking sounds. A few seconds later, and it was sat neatly in the alcove, staring out. Coremon placed his hands by his sides, forcing himself to make eye contact with the beast.

“I want you to stay here. I’m going to leave, but you are not going to move.”

He swallowed, his hand running around his chest.

“You are not to kill anyone. You are going to stay here.”

The beast stared at him, with a look almost like puzzlement. Coremon lowered his hand, and straightened up to his full height.

“Do you understand? Acknowledge me.”

Ghak

“You will not kill anyone else. You will not hurt anyone else. That is the most important order. Acknowledge me.”

Ghak

Coremon stepped back, looking into the beast’s earnest eyes, as it watched intently.

He turned sideways, and walked further into the catacombs, the gloom covering him and obscuring his vision once again.

He ground his teeth, as he felt his limbs quickening.

And soon enough, he was running at full speed, his heart racing and his mind running wild.

He didn’t look back. He didn’t dare, expecting to see the deadly behemoth lumbering after him if he so much as glimpsed. Even now, between his own panicked breathing, he was convinced he could feel pounding footsteps on the metal behind him, and hear maddened laughter through a lethal, burning aura.

And he ran even faster, not even paying attention to the way anymore, just taking turn after turn past the flickering murals alongside him, detailing events he knew nothing about, just like he knew nothing about anything in his life right now.

And he found himself slowing, his lungs and his limbs reaching their limit, until with a final lurch he staggered to one side, holding a palm against the metal next to him to keep him from tumbling over. He bent double, and convulsed, coughing up nothing onto the chrome below, which rippled and distorted his own reflection. He winced, and turned his head, looking back over his shoulder.

It hadn’t followed him.

Coremon’s hind legs gave out, and he sat abruptly, running his hands over his face. The twisting feeling in his gut still hadn’t dissipated, only made worse now from the discovery. More and more he was regretting not trying to do something else – to send it away, or to bring it to the Sovereigns, or to bring it to General Surtremon somehow and have him dispose of it – but each idea just felt like a half-formed wisp, leading only to more ruin that what he’d managed to do now.

His hand went up to his chest, closing around Muspelmon’s brooch. He’d done the same often enough now to feel the curves and valleys of the fire sigyl. Looking straight ahead, he counted his breaths, remembering his oath, his duty...his friends…

It felt like forever. But he finally calmed down just enough to take in his surroundings again for good. Just enough to realise that, in his panic, he now had absolutely no idea where in the catacombs he was.

And then just a little more lucidity as he realised that there was light again here.

And sounds.

Scratching sounds.

He looked down the tunnel, and saw the source. A little golden light coating the wall at the end of the tunnel, enveloping the murals with a soft yellow, with the sounds carrying down to where he was.

He pulled back into the shadows, watching as the lights kept flickering. They dimmed over time, with the scratches seeming to get further away. Then, after a little while, they stopped for good. The light dimmed fully, forcing the manticore to light his shoulders again to see the breadth of the tunnel.

Part of him had seen quite enough unorthodox things going on to put him off investigating further. But another part of him – curious and truth-yearning as ever – was desperate to pursue it.

He consulted the logical part of his mind for a tie-breaker. The logical part reminded him that he had absolutely no idea where he was anyway.

Resigned, and more cautiously now, Coremon shuffled forwards, tracking the murals once again.

He kept low, his shoulder flames merely glowing so as not to get unceremoniously jumped on once again. He stayed to one side, keeping an eye firmly ahead, though he found himself drawn to the murals every other step.

They were different again, and completely unrecognisable to him now. More of the figures, large and small, humanoid and bestial, but lost in vortices and miasmas that seemed utterly incomprehensible. And then something much larger. Spherical, powerful. A world. The Digital World? And further on, he saw it was overlaid with another one. And a third. And the creatures leapt through the three circles. Leapt, and fell, and were still. Save for one, at the forefront, reaching out for

It stopped. The lines faded away, with only bare metal following them. Coremon blinked, wondering where the rest of the mural was.

And then it clicked with him what the scratching had been. Someone had just been drawing this.

Someone who, judging by the faint light from the entrance just a short distance down the tunnel, was still here.

He pulled himself even lower, stalking across the cold ground with his tail coiled tightly. Tentatively, he reached the apex of the wall, and leant forwards, taking in the first glance of what was inside.

It appeared to be some kind of large library. The top of the room reached up into a high dome, with struts making their way down the sides like a spider’s web. The further down they came, the more they crossed and interlocked, until eventually they were intricate enough to store manuscripts. And store them they did. Even from limited vantage point, Coremon could make out hundreds and thousands of them just up one wall.

Not hearing or seeing any sign of anyone else in there, he edged round further, before stepping inside entirely, taken in by the quiet majesty of the place. He’d seen the archives within the Fire Kingdom, and had been frequently dismissive of their contents, but even he could tell that this was on another level. Bound books, rolled parchments, scribed leather and scratched slates. Carvings on rock and metal and jewels of all kinds, and faint etched gold and silver on gossamer-like cloth. And not just writings either; there were artefacts here too; some weapons, some treasures, and some things completely alien to him in history and function.

He shivered, the dry cold of the whole place reaching down to his bones. The enormity of the place was still hanging over him, and he leant sideways, resting on a set of shelves with ancient digicode over the tablets they held, many generations before what he could recognise. He didn’t even try, instead focusing on stilling his breathing.

That was when he heard the tapping.

Quiet, yet sharp, like a pin on metal. Following an irregular beat, but also strangely rhythmic. From a heartbeat to a drumbeat to a message. It took Coremon a moment to place the sound, but once he recognised it, he pulled himself back further, looking around him and trying to pinpoint the direction.

He took a couple of steps, looking around the nearest shelves, across the central corridor to the end of the runway. There was a gap in the archive, seeming very empty save for a small, semicircular desk. There were a couple of stacks of papers either side, and three open crates, and in the centre, the Sovereign herself. Gryllimon’s head was down, the mask covering her eyes as she focused on the paper before her. Only sporadically, she would pull her arms up, tapping the bejewelled fingers together with an impeccable precision. Then she would lower them again, turning the page over to continue her work.

Coremon edged forwards, staying to one side as he tried to get a better look. He was only twenty metres away when she raised her head, turning the parchment again and laying it flat. The manticore held his breath, not even daring to blink.

“It’s my understanding that you shouldn’t be down here, Coremon.”

The Rookie winced, his entire body tensing as Gryllimon slowly turned her head in his direction. Her antennae curled briefly, her face giving nothing away underneath the blindfold.

“I’m sure Hasdielmon would be disappointed to find you missing from your confinement.”

Coremon sighed, and stepped out into the open, sitting before the Sovereign and feeling remarkably small.

“I’ve had a bad couple of days, your highness. I’m already in trouble; there’s not much I can do to make it worse now.”

Gryllimon tilted her head back and forth, before rolling the parchment away and clasping her hands in front of her on the desk. Coremon rubbed behind his head, feeling strangely resigned to the whole affair.

“How long have you known I was down here?”

“Since I heard you running at full pelt down the hallway screaming internally.”

“Oh.”

“I have rather good hearing.”

Coremon bit his lip, padding the ground in front of him, before blurting out the question he wasn’t sure he wanted to ask.

“Did you know about the beast down here? I’m...it’s been wandering around...I think it’s the same one that’s been causing havoc on the surface.”

“Almost certainly.”

“Did you know about that as well?” Coremon’s brow furrowed nervously. “Do you...have something to do with it?”

“Do you think I do?”

Coremon looked at the still Sovereign before him; completely unguarded and non-defensive. He lowered his head, his tail laying on the ground behind him.

“I don’t know what I think anymore.”

He looked up, seeing the central column spreading out into all its myriad shelves. “Aren’t you worried it might find its way in here?”

“This place listens to me. The whole capital does. There’s no need to worry.”

The manticore looked incredulous, but as if to prove a point, Gryllimon reached out with one hand, and clicked her fingers. The tap was sharper than ever, ringing out inside the chamber, and Coremon could feel the very floor rippling beneath him. When he looked behind him, he saw that the wall had shifted, his entrance now gone. The catacombs were no longer in sight.

Gryllimon lowered her hand back down, interlocking her fingers. “Unless I will it, nobody can get into my archive. Or out.”

“Nobody, including me?”

“Naturally.”

“Ah. Nice to know.”

The insect cocked her head. “You seem guarded. Don’t misunderstand me; I have no reason nor will to try and trap you, or catch you out. I knew you were coming so I merely allowed you inside.”

“You know, I’m getting really quite tired of being pushed around by people who know more than me.” Coremon ran a hand over his forehead, his fingers mussing up his hair. “This whole situation’s just been one unfair event after another. I’m only down here because I want to know the truth.”

“There are many truths, as many as there are lives.”

“Don’t get cryptic with me,” scowled the manticore. Then he puffed his cheeks out, hurriedly adding a “your highness”.

Gryllimon chuckled, and placed the parchment in the crate beside her, before standing to her full height. Even in her hunched over position she towered above the Rookie, holding a commanding and deliberate presence with her every move.

“I’ve never been one to stand on ceremony. I’m just here looking for the truth as well. It’s always been the case, even long before I became a Sovereign.”

Coremon was hesitant at first, still feeling uncertain about the whole situation. But he forced himself up, and walked slowly alongside her, his yearning getting the better of him.

“So you called this your archive. Did you create it?”

Gryllimon slowed her pace, taking in the environment around her. “I’ve added a few curiosities here and there. But the Spokes has always had an archivist. This is the result of many hundreds of generations of work like mine.”

She reached out a slender arm, brushing it over the nearest shelf. “There are records here from the earliest days of the Digital World, all the way through to the tumult we go through now. There is no judgement here, no muddled senses of right and wrong or justice. Just a glimpse into minds and lives long past now.”

Coremon looked at his paws, tapping his fingers against the floor. “And outside, the murals on the walls; that’s something you’re adding to as well?”

Gryllimon paused, her antennae curling ever so slightly. She turned back, looking down at Coremon with her blank expression.

“The carvings are mine. It’s my own personal duty, outside of the Sovereign’s work.”

“I’m sorry?”

“This place is to preserve the past and the present. But only I can help a little to preserve the future.”

Coremon blinked, looking around him for any kind of inspiration, and finding none.

“You’ve lost me.”

“You asked me if I was aware of the pale beast down here. I knew of it long before you’d ever arrived here. Even before it existed.”

She crouched down, and tapped her face, just below her eye covering.

“I’m not blind. I only wear this to protect myself. If I don’t, then all around my peripheral vision I can see things to come. Only flashes, glimpses without context or order. But still...it’s overwhelming.”

Coremon’s eyes widened. “You can see the future?”

“Long ago, I had a run in with a powerful Digimon. My old mentor, in fact. He had the same ability, using a pool to look into the future and guard against oncoming disasters. I was cast into that pool, and I saw the same things that he did. The...the futures that await us, in this world and those which run parallel to ours. Obviously it must have left its permanent mark on me, and my senses.”

She went quiet, tapping her fingers together. “It killed him, in the end. It’s a cursed power. Hence why I protect myself. But still, I also have a duty to preserve as much as I can. And the archive is a special place. It will take care of things in my stead.”

Coremon looked down at the ground, his head shaking slightly. Gryllimon just kept moving, running a hand across the shelves in a purposeful fashion. She tilted her head slightly, one antennae cocking as she waited for the Elite’s response.

“Wait...wait just...you know the future, you knew I was coming…”

He looked up, a sudden desperation in his voice.

“Then you know that I have nothing to do with the disappearances, or the pale beast, or anything. You might even know who killed Muspelmon. You can help me.”

“I can’t.”

“Why the hell wouldn’t you? You could stop all these horrible things happening-”

“Could I really?”

Gryllimon turned around, holding a small manuscript under one arm. Her head was turned downwards towards the manticore, her face grave.

“You’ve seen the images outside. You know how far this goes, right? You, me...your friends, the Sovereignty; we’re all tiny in the grand scheme of things. My priorities go far beyond your pitiful life. To search for the answers to your questions would only waste my limited time.”

“But I-”

Gryllimon raised a hand, her voice firm despite its low volume. “In any case, I can only see actions. Events that take place. I can’t see inside minds. Why people choose these paths, perform these horrific acts; that will always be a mystery to me. All I can do is offer truth; truth in happening. That is my role, Red Beast.”

Coremon started, his eyes twitching ever so slightly.

“What did you call me?”

The sovereign stared for a few moments. Then she shook her head.

“I apologise.”

She walked towards him, her shoulders hunched further as she held the book underneath her arm.

“Don’t misunderstand me. I have no animosity towards you, but I hold no loyalty towards you either. I will not needlessly rush to your defence in the trial tomorrow. If you want to reveal the truth that matters to you, that’s your prerogative. All I can do is provide you with the tools.”

She reached out, dropping the book in front of the Elite, before walking past him on her tiptoeing feet. Coremon looked over his shoulder, narrowing his eyes.

“If you’re not here to help me, why are you giving me study reading?”

“ It’s not mine to give you. It’s already yours, Fire Soldier.”

Coremon furrowed his brow, before turning the book over in front of him. He gasped, recognising the familiar sigyl emblazoned into the front, and turned on his heels.

“How did you get this?”

“I found it. In the capital building, not too long before you arrived.” Gryllimon paused, turning her head slightly to look back at him. “I understand you lost one recently. I just figured I’d hold onto it until the rightful owners came. Don’t worry; I haven’t opened it. I can’t.”

Coremon stood there, stunned, as he looked down at Muspelmon’s journal before him. He wanted to say something, but the words were failing him, just catching in his throat. Gryllimon turned away fully, and clicked her fingers, the walls shifting around her once again. Light peeked into the archive, casting patterns on the floor.

“I’ll warn you, Coremon; truth is a cruel thing. You may find it more comforting to accept the fate provided to you, rather than dive any deeper down this pit.”

Coremon closed his eyes, the events of the past few days...the past few months rushing through him all at once. When he opened them again, his eyes were firm.

“I came here looking for answers. Whatever those answers are, I can deal with it.”

“If that’s your decision,”said Gryllimon softly. She waved at the wall, the entrance opening further. “As I said, this place is special. If you wish to return to your room, it will lead you the way. I will await your presence tomorrow.”

Coremon didn’t say a word. He just nodded in acknowledgement, watching and listening as the Sovereign’s tapping feet left the archive.

And then he was alone, staring down at the journal before him.

With it in his hands, it looked much like many of the other manuscripts he’d seen around the libraries of the Fire Kingdom. Not dishevelled by any means; it was neatly bound and beautifully embossed, with an inset sigyl on the front of cover. But it wasn’t the kind of thing that would have jumped out at him on the shelves.

Coremon wondered whether to believe Gryllimon that she hadn’t read it, but a closer inspection found that she was indeed telling the truth. There were two corner protectors on the sides, and a clasp over the pages, held tightly in place. Coremon looked for a keyhole, a puzzle lock; anything which might allow entry, but it was a futile endeavour. He lay it flat before him, rubbing his temple.

“I don’t know what she expects me to do about it…”

He paused, his finger tracing over the symbol in the centre of the cover. He ran a claw around the curves of the embossed flame, and then, slowly brought it up to his chest, making the same motion around Muspelmon’s brooch.

“It couldn’t be…”

Gently, he unpinned it, and held it down next to the manuscript. The patterns were a mirror image of each other, right down to the jewel placements. And as he moved them closer, he could see the slight glow in the copper and the gold, reacting to one another.

He picked up the brooch, turning it and lining it up with the aperture. Ever so slowly, he pressed it in, the symbol sliding smoothly into place.

There was a gentle glow throughout the cover, followed by the hum of a hundred tiny wheels and pins as the corner clasps and main lock retracted, pulling themselves neatly into the pattern on the rest of the cover. Coremon watched in fascination, until the movement stopped, with the manuscript lying unlocked before him. He reached out with a paw, holding up the cover to look inside.

Something made him pause.

He placed it back down again, feeling a sudden tightness in his bones. Gryllimon’s last warning echoed around his mind, making his paw feel heavier than ever. He shook his head, grinding his teeth.

“I’m doing this for justice. For Muspelmon. For the citizens of the Spokes. For…”

For himself?

The uncertainty ate into him even more, as he stared at the now completed emblem on the front of the journal. He’d never asked for this. He was doing it out of duty, and loyalty to the Fire Kingdom. And yet, with everything falling into his hands like this, everything to lead him to this chance to save his life…

Faces flashed in his mind. Muspelmon. The Sovereignty. Mollumon and Serpemon. And the beast, staring at him with unbound love and recognition.

And he realised that he was scared.

His hand clenched and unclenched on the smooth metal below him, feeling like a tiny, powerless movement within the great machinations of the capital building around him...and possibly even further. Minutes he sat there, his eyes closed, the same faces swirling in his vision.

He sat down, and pulled the manuscript closer, his fingers curling around the edge.

“There’s a lot of things wrong in this world. It’s my job to make them better. And to do that...I need to know the truth. Forgive me.”

He pulled the cover up, silvery dust sprinkling out from the pages. And he began to read.

The sounds from the capital far above barely pierced through the layers of metal, all of them melding into the slightest of hums that echoed around the archive. There was no sense here of the outside world. No sounds, no breeze; just Coremon alone, reading page after page and feeling more alone than he ever had before.

Soon, all sense of time seemed to escape him as well. Seconds felt like minutes. Hours like days. But even if he wanted to he couldn’t look away, delving deeper and deeper into the pit. Gryllimon’s words sounded louder than ever in his mind, but he knew it was too late now, his eyes growing wider as he found the truths he was seeking.

Until it all came to a head, and he jumped back, kicking the journal away. It skidded across the metal, gliding smoothly to a stop.

Coremon was silent, his palms against his face, as words burned themselves onto his eyes and his mind like physical daggers. He wanted to react – scream, or cry, or deny or demand – but absolutely nothing came forth. And he reached out for the comforting figures of Mollumon, or Serpemon, neither of whom were there.

And his hand went towards his chest, and found nothing. Nothing but the rough cloak that adorned him.

It became too much for him, and he stumbled to the ground, staring upwards into the web above, and the strands that delved into the centre.

A million possibilities whirled around his head, as he lay still, his hands over his eyes. He didn’t move for several minutes, with only the tip of his tail curling back and forth against the floor.

Then, when nobody came to comfort him, arrest him, or kill him, he got up once again.

Slowly, he padded over to the manuscript, which was closed again, the sigyl in the front glaring up at him. He pulled it sharply, the brooch sliding free, and as he did so the clasps reformed along the edges, as perfect and ornate as ever.

It sickened him.

Stone-faced, Coremon clipped the symbol back onto his cloak, before turning it inwards, feeling the metal against his own chest. With his other hand he picked up the tome, and padded to the exit where Gryllimon had left, seemingly years before. He paused for a moment, looking back into the archive, and the myriad of secrets that it held – secrets that he’d never understand in a million years.

“How much have you seen?”

Coremon was sure that he could feel a deep power within the room, something passing him ancient knowledge far beyond his comprehension. But it didn’t answer in words. He bowed his head, smiling bitterly.

“I’m ready to go back now.”

As the hue in the Spokes dome slowly brightened, turning from a deep purple to a soft lilac, it let trails of light cascade along the districts. The beams played across roofs, through windows, and across the faces of the citizens within, signifying the start of a new day. They stirred, and awoke, and stared out across their ancient home. Whatever was going on within the capital meant nothing to them, nor did the secrets hiding just beneath their feet.

It was just going to be another normal day.

The morning beams travelled up the very same capital building, marking out the faint mottled patterns on the surface. They reached inside, glowing on the edge of the shining mirror as Hamadryamon stared deeply into it.

The beams flashed in her vision, and she closed her eye a little, only to wince as the burning pain shot across her face with the movement. She raised a hand with the slightest tremble, gently feeling the edge of the wound on her cheek, and tracing it down her collar in its jagged path. The skin looked like torn paper, with the solid grey flesh just behind, looking utterly dead.

“How is it this morning?”

Hamadryamon lowered her arm, and turned to see Hasdielmon’s featureless face at her balcony, his jewel-like eyes gazing softly upon her.

“It’s still burning. I can feel it, constantly.”

Hasdielmon bowed his head, humbly and apologetically, as Hamadryamon slowly walked out onto the balcony towards him.

“I’ve never felt anything like this before. It hurts.”

“Did you manage to get any sleep?”

“Not any. But that’s fairly normal these days anyway.”

Hamadryamon leant forwards, holding her hands over the balustrade and scanning the silver cities before her. Hasdielmon followed her gaze, his upper body twisting. It was a couple of minutes before the wood nymph spoke.

“Do you ever get scared, Hasdielmon? That this isn’t going to last?”

The angel tilted his head. “The Spokes?”

“As we know them. As they’ve been for generations. Generations of...my family, certainly.”

Hasdielmon raised an arm, running it across the pouched dagger at his neck. “I don’t know what the future holds. But we have to carry on as if tomorrow will be the same, don’t we?”

“But it won’t be. Every day, we lose more power. More respect. You...you must be aware that we could be among the last Sovereigns, if the citizens of the Spokes lose their faith in us completely…”

Her hands tightened over the rail, and she gritted her teeth.

“I just...don’t want to let this go yet. I was passed a legacy here, and I want it to be preserved. Otherwise...otherwise I will be the one who let it all fall apart. The hand of destruction that brought this age to an end.”

She turned to the angel, and he saw a glistening on her good cheek as tears trickled down.

“Does that make me a horrible person, Hasdielmon? This is all I have. I can’t let it go, I...I just can’t…”

The angel didn’t say a word. Hamadryamon’s gaze fell, and she noticed his bandaged hand further around his dagger, holding it firmly now. She sniffed, and wiped at her cheek.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t...that just came out. Especially after what you’ve already lost, my darling.”

There was a slight tensing in Hasdielmon’s hand, just momentarily. Then he let it go, and reached out, gently brushing the side of her arm with one finger.

“My answer doesn’t change. I followed that path when my own home fell. All I can do is keep living. That’s all any of us can do. Live as if tomorrow’s still going to come.”

Hamadryamon held his fingers, bringing them close to her smaller frame as the angel bowed his head.

“I can’t ease your worries. Things can change in an instant. But you are not just the Spokes, Hamadryamon. You have your own path as well.”

Hamadryamon gave a half-smile, and gently bent down, giving his fingertips a gently kiss.

“So long as that path is beside you. Please, promise you won’t leave me, darling.”

“You’re affectionate this morning.”

“I think I’m more worried about this trial than I let on.”

“After what you went through yesterday? That’s hardly surprising.”

Hasdielmon gently pulled his hand away, his eyes shimmering. “Are you going to be okay to attend? If it’s too much for now…”

Hamadryamon raised her hand, shaking her head, before clasping the claws in front of her, reclaiming her regal composure.

“We have a duty, that evil acts are held to account. It’s only right that I’m there. And above all, we need to know the truth.”

She turned around, her scarred dress flowing around her, before looking over her shoulder with her wound rippling beside her.

“Shall we go and retrieve our charge, then?”

Hamadryamon swept through the corridors with a renewed presence and confidence, flanked by the guard of Sagittarimon as she made her way through to the holding room. Turning a corner, she saw a couple of Rinkmon nervously talking to each other.

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Your majesty…”

One of them turned nervously, holding a bladed arm against the other. “I just...we...couldn’t find the prisoner this morning.”

“Coremon?” Hamadryamon gritted her teeth. “You mean he’s escaped?”

“No, he’s right there, but I came to check in the early hours and the room looked completely empty. I swear, I couldn’t see him.”

The Rinkmon’s companion knocked against him subtly, shaking his head. “Don’t complicate matters. You must have just imagined it.”

Hamadryamon hissed under her breath, and walked past the two, holding out her hand as she opened the door to the quarters. Coremon turned his head, looking up at her, and he nodded respectfully.

“Good morning, your highness.”

“Hello, Coremon.”

The manticore turned on his heels, presenting himself in an open fashion. “I apologise for my actions yesterday. I hope your injuries haven’t been too severe.”

“Your concern means nothing to me at present,” said Hamadryamon wryly, and she folded her arms. “I’ve heard rumours from the guards that you went missing last night.”

Coremon rolled his tongue around his mouth. “I’ve been preparing my case, as you asked me to. There’d be no point in me running away; it would only cause further disdain upon the Fire Kingdom if one of their ambassadors went rogue. It’s more beneficial for me to work on proving my innocence.”

Hamadryamon’s mouth thinned to a flat slit. “We shall see.” She nodded to the Sagittarimon flanking her. “Escort him down to the courthouse. We’ll prepare for his hearing.” She gave one last look down at the calm-faced Elite, before turning on her heels and walking back down the corridor. Coremon picked himself up, reaching behind him for the small square bundle as the Sagittarimon came in after him. One of them saw his movements, pointing with a gauntlet.

“What is that you have there?”

Coremon looked under his arm. “Part of my case, if I’m permitted.”

The guard’s head dropped slowly, peering at the package. “Do you really think that’s going to help you after everything you’ve done?”

The manticore sighed, and held his hand up towards his chest, but stopped just short of his cloak. He clenched his fist, looking ahead with narrowed eyes.

“I suppose we’ll just have to find out.”

Unseen from deep within the fortress, there was further commotion at the main gate of the capital itself. Guards rushed forwards; Rinkmon flanking the retreat and AtlurBallistamon bracing either side of the courtyard, facing the two figures before them. Serpemon sighed, scratching his cheek.

“I don’t think we’ve got quite the freedom of movement we had before.”

Mollumon rolled his eyes, and waited as the front gate opened and Frozomon rumbled forwards, his eye rolling between them.

“You two’ve been missing for quite some time. You’re hella difficult to find, you know.”

Serpemon raised a splayed hand, grinning inanely. “Whaddap, numb-nuts?”

There was a surrounding clump as all the guards stepped in at once, prompting Mollumon to plant his face inside one of his tentacles. “What did we just talk about regarding etiquette?”

“We’re already in trouble, Wiggles; I couldn’t resist. Bite me.”

Mollumon snorted, and held out a message towards Frozomon, who swivelled it around in his clamp arm.

“As far as I’m aware, our freedom of exploration was never actually revoked. Thus, it’s our right to join our colleague for his trial, if you please.”

Frozomon’s eye peered over the edge of the paper with a menacing look. “Do you honestly think any of this is gonna fly with the Sovereignty?”

“Frozomon?”

“Sir.”

The captain of the guard shuffled backwards, as did the surrounding guards as Muscovymon marched forwards, towering over the two Elites. Serpemon made a show of a gracious bow.

“Your highness honours us with his presence.”

Muscovymon’s eye narrowed to a dangerous slit, before he shifted it over to Mollumon, ignoring the serpent entirely. “Am I to assume you’re here for Coremon?”

“We are here to join Coremon,” replied Mollumon, rolling up the parchment and putting it inside his barrel. “It’s my understanding that today’s discussion is regarding the actions of the Fire Kingdom, rather than Coremon on his own.”

Muscovymon placed a hand on his hip. “It could be construed that way. However, any judgements will then be passed back up to your superiors.”

“I have faith in him, Muscovymon. We all came together, and we have a right to see this through together.”

The duck lowered his bill for a moment, a half-smile playing over his face.

“I’ll be honest with you, that’s a level of camaraderie I do miss…”

Frozomon raised his head. “Sir?”

The duck straightened up, nodding to the assembled guard. “Three of you, escort these two to the courthouse along with myself. The rest of you, to your posts. And stay vigilant for trouble.”

Serpemon stuck his lower lip out. “We’re honestly not looking to cause any trouble.”

“You said that two days ago. Now look where we are.” The duck grimaced, and nudged the ground behind the two as they hurried along, flanked by the guards.

“You’re now under arrest.”

Coremon walked slowly, holding his cloak beside him as he was flanked by his own entourage. One of the Sagittarimon was flagging a little behind the other, occasionally stealing looks down at the manticore. Coremon noticed, and tilted his head.

“Don’t I know you?”

“I...um...was assigned to you before.”

“Ah. That’ll be where.”

The Sagittarimon dropped back another step, to the point where his colleague grabbed him by the arm and pulled him forwards. Coremon looked ahead, his voice clear and firm.

“You don’t need to show me any leniency. I’m here on my own behalf. Focus on the task you’ve been given, soldier.”

The other one grumbled, clapping his front hoof slightly harder behind Coremon’s step, but the Elite paid him no mind. In all honesty, the harsh treatment allowed him to make his actions automatic, and freed up his mind for what was going to be an even harsher few hours to come. The less he spoke, the less chance there was that he would break before the time came.

No wonder Surtremon always feels so distant, he thought to himself, placing his paws robotically in front of one another. If he has to deal with scrutiny like this on a daily basis.

The guards signalled for him to stop, and he stood attentively, watching as they broached the doors ahead. At the corner of his eye he could see further corridors, descending downwards, and he realised that he must now be just above the top layer of the catacombs. He looked ahead hurriedly, not wanting to give away his ventures.

He focused instead on the great panels instead of him, and realised that he was in front of a door. Older in design and insignia than others he’d seen around the capital, with far more intricate markings, dominated by the seal of Metal in the centre, and four variants surrounding it.

“What is this place?”

“Where your trial will be held,” replied the first Sagittarimon, placing a hand against the wall as the panels began to rotate before him.

“This is the grand courthouse of the Spokes.”

Coremon narrowed his eyes as the rotating panels glimmered in his face, before looking further inside. It was hard not to be overwhelmed as he moved onto the dull metal platform before him, and he swung his head around, staring at the stepped arches and the grand carvings surrounding him. The courthouse itself seemed to be set out like an amphitheatre, but where there should have been an arena there was instead a great pit, leading he assumed into the catacombs below.

High in the ceiling, he could see suspended chambers, held in place by wrapped metal chains, looking as if they could be raised and lowered at will. It took him a moment to figure it out, before it clicked. Confining cells. He turned back to the guards.

“Am I supposed to be in one of those?”

“By the end of this, you might well be.”

The voice wasn’t loud in and of itself, but the echo of the vast antechamber reflected it into the manticore’s ears, making him jump. He turned around, and saw the four great pillars before him, each emblazoned with one of the four sigyls he’d seen on the door, and which he now placed as the four aspects of the Sovereignty. Citizenry, culture, power and knowledge.

Two of them were already in place. Hamadryamon stood on the centre right, her gown draped over her as she leant forwards at the bar. Behind her and to the left, and towering above, Hasdielmon almost looked like he blended into his podium. He stood there, his eyes shining in the gloom like two stars, and he beckoned with an armoured hand.

“Coremon, please ascend and take your place at the defence. Bring everything you have prepared.”

“’Functional and efficient’ never really made any sense to you people, did it…”

The words barely carried, on purpose, as Coremon said them under his breath. He began to climb the steps next to him, needing to bound a bit more than usual due to their height, but presently he found himself at the apex of his own podium. It didn’t have quite the grandiosity of the Sovereignty’s, but there was at least space to gather everything around him. He reared up, and rested his arms on the stand in front of him, feeling very high, very exposed, and very aware of the yawning chasm just in front of him.

“Are we expecting any of the others?”

Hasdielmon bowed his head. “For the sentence it is creed and requirement that we are all present, so that the end result may not be driven by our own biases.”

“That sounds sensible. Should I just wait here, then?”

“There’s nothing stopping us from opening the case if they have prior responsibilities.” Hasdielmon looked downwards into the catacombs. “Gryllimon has informed me she has a last duty and will be late.”

There came a click of hooves from the front entrance, and Coremon and the two Sovereigns looked down as one of the Sagittarimon raised a hand. “Your highnesses! Muscovymon has also signalled his delays and moves that you begin without him.”

Hamadryamon straightened up, her finger coiling around one cheek. “Well now...that should allow us to make some headway then…”

Coremon winced, but tried not to let it show on his face. He moved his cloak further aside, before clasping his hands. “I can answer as much as I’m able.”

“Very well then. We will commence.”

Hasdielmon straightened up, and his eyes seemed to change hue as he did so, their glow becoming more intense.

“Coremon, Elite of the Fire Kingdom; you are here for questioning regarding the unfortunate events that have occurred during your permitted stay within the Spokes. In order to prevent any further damage to the districts or their citizens, we must come down to the bottom of this. The expectation is that you co-operate with us through this process. Do you accept these terms?”

Coremon’s eyes flicked back and forth, seeing the power ebbing and flowing behind the metallic walls, and he wondered how many had been in his position before over the past few generations. And, in fact, how many had managed to find their way out again.

“I will co-operate with you, in so much that I will answer all queries as openly and truthfully as I am able.” He lowered his head. “It’s my desire to do that as well, as it would be for all three of us in the Fire Kingdom.”

“Your friends can speak for themselves,” said Hamadryamon icily, her fingers tapping against the pillar. “And their absence currently speaks for them.”

“Hamadryamon.”

The dryad backed down as Hasdielmon held his palm out before him. “Do you have any opening statements or clarifications you wish to make?”

Coremon raised a hand. “One; may I ask exactly what events – or accusations – I am being questioned on?”

Hamadryamon’s mouth twisted up again, and she drew a shining tablet down beside her, running her claws over the metal with a faint, yet still agonising scratching sound.

“Suspicion of espionage from the Fire Kingdom against the Spokes. Incitement of anarchy in a foreign jurisdiction. Attack on a sovereign of a foreign jurisdiction, and suspected attack and murder of at least one member of a foreign citizenry.”

She raised her head, curling the top of the page. “That’s a start, at least.”

“Is that everything?”

Hamadryamon’s lips thinned out. “Were you expecting anything further?”

The manticore pressed his paws down, cursing inwardly at his lack of a poker face.

“That’s clear enough, your highness.”

Clear enough to him, he supposed, that he was going to have to work very hard to find any angle of his own to work with. The mottled markings within the walls of the courthouse seemed to mirror his own misgivings, the colours melding with his heartbeat and breathing.

He tried to calm himself once more, putting himself in the mindset that Serpemon would have in this situation. Answer clearly and carefully, and only the questions he was asked. After all, there was nothing posited before him that he didn’t have some kind of valid response to. He could still hold out like this.

“ I apologise for being delayed.”

Ah. That could cause some issues.

With nary the slightest tap of her footsteps, Gryllimon stepped up to her own podium, looking incredibly small at that great height. Still, as her head turned towards Coremon, he could feel the burning gaze upon him even from behind the blindfold.

“Gryllimon, do you have anything you wish to add at this stage?”

The chamber seemed utterly silent, even with the goings on within the structure, as Gryllimon didn’t move from her spot. Coremon kept his own expression as flat as he could, hoping beyond hope that she would stay true to her word.

Hamadryamon tapped the podium beside her. “Gryllimon?”

The cricket rolled her shoulders, and nodded at the other two Sovereigns. “Nothing at this point. I’m merely here to observe.”

Coremon could feel his gut twisting, his immediate relief at not being outed for the previous night’s venture, mixing with the growing concern he had as to why she still chose not to.

Hamadryamon merely clicked her mouth, muttering under her breath. “You’re here as a member of the Sovereignty; you’ll perform your role with the rest of us, thank you.”

There was a slight rumble as Hasdielmon’s body shifted, causing the other two to quieten down, their attention turned back to the Fire Soldier before them. The angel clasped his hands before him.

“Coremon, do you have any comments regarding what you’ve been accused of?”

The manticore looked ahead at the great pillars, and the hefty presences staring down at him, and he cleared his throat.

“It’s my understanding that the Fire Kingdom and the Spokes still have a mutually beneficial relationship. I’m confused as to why espionage is one of the talking points.”

Gryllimon tilted her head, just slightly. “You cannot be so naive to believe that there’s no political differences between the two entities. Someone can always stand to gain something from another.”

“Even so, we followed the right processes, were granted access to the Spokes by yourselves and were given ambassadorial freedom during our limited stay,” replied Coremon, trying to keep any wavering out of his voice. “If you had any reason to suspect us then you wouldn’t have allowed us entry.”

“It was a gesture of goodwill. Especially concerning the tragic events of our last meeting,” spoke Hasdielmon, his hand curling against his pedestal. “Ambassadorial freedom or none; there are lines that were crossed by your party in terms of engaging with our citizenry.”

“Incitement of anarchy, was that?”

Coremon ran a thumb over his cheek, his shoulders letting off a couple of sparks.

“We were briefed on the general social situation of the Spokes when we arrived, but at no point were we forbidden with engaging with any of your citizens. Regardless of their intent.”

Hamadryamon gritted her teeth. “I would have believed it to be obvious that you were not per-”

“Again, we were your guests,” interjected Coremon, perhaps more forcefully than he intended, though he found himself getting into the rhythm of things now. “You’ve had power to stop us the whole time. There’s no accusations you can make without having clearly explained what the protocols were to begin with.”

Hamadryamon straightened up, and splayed her hands on the pedestal in front of her, her face twisting into a grimace.

“This is all semantics. If you want something concrete, then I’ll give it to you. You personally attacked myself, a member of the Spokes Sovereignty. There’s nothing you can deny about that.”

Coremon sat back, allowing the comment to settle in the courthouse, before beginning again.

“I won’t deny that I engaged you in combat.”

“You attacked me!”

“You were going to attack innocents!”

Coremon held himself back, running his tongue around his mouth, before facing the dryad directly again. “I believed that to be the case, anyway. You were clearly in distress, and I was concerned for the wellbeing of those around us. Ambassador or Elite has nothing to do with it; as a member of the Fire Kingdom I have a duty of care to step in.”

Hamadryamon bristled, her hair forming spikes in waves, as she pointed a long, accusatory talon.

“You had NO RIGHT!”

Slam

“Lady Hamadryamon, I can say from personal experience that it is the way of the Fire Kingdom.”

Everybody turned to the main entrance as Muscovymon stepped in, pulling his cloak further around him. “If his intentions were noble, then in my view he has every right.”

The dryad drew back, her words catching in her throat as the duck’s hard stare hit her. Gryllimon scratched down some more notes, as Hasdielmon’s body settled further down. “Muscovymon, it’s not like you to be tardy for an appointment such as this.”

“My apologies,” said Muscovymon, pulling his cloak in. Coremon started, and looked down behind the final Sovereign, as Mollumon and Serpemon walked forwards as well.

The duck docked his cap, a glint in his eye. “I just felt it appropriate that all parties were present.”

“Guys…”

Mollumon gave a sheepish wave, while Serpemon seemed distracted by the interior of the courthouse, whistling to himself.

“This is out of line, Muscovymon.”

Hamadryamon straightened up again, pointing at the two other Elites. “These two have no need to be present for this trial. Coremon is the one under question.”

“Far be it for me to comment, but the way the questions are going seem to condemn the actions of the Fire Kingdom as a whole.”

“Gryllimon, not you too…”

The cricket pulled her hands together, her antenna twitching as she looked over at the dryad. “They arrived as a unit. It is as a unit they should be scrutinised.”

Hamadryamon looked desperately over at Hasdielmon, a pleading look on her face, as the angel stared down with his usual kindly mask. After a few moments, he raised his head.

“I agree. Mollumon and Serpemon are to join Coremon on the defense’s pedestal. The more chance we have of finding the truth, the more opportunities we should take.”

The dryad next to him seemed hurt, but she pulled back, quietly seething. Hasdielmon straightened up again.

“Muscovymon, please take your place among the quadribunal. We’re already delayed, and we have a great deal we need to discuss.”

Coremon almost didn’t hear the angel, his attention taken up by his friends as they finally reunited after what had felt like ages. He stopped himself from reaching out and greeting them, instead clearing his throat.

“I’m glad you’ve made it.”

“I’ll bet you are. Moron.”

Mollumon shook his head, and placed his tentacles on his hips. “So long as they haven’t found you guilty yet, we’re in with a chance. Did you manage to find anything on your end?”

Coremon’s smile wavered, and he looked down at the bag below the podium.

“I...yes...yes, I did…”

Mollumon gave him a concerned look, and prepared to ask another question, when Serpemon nudged him on the shoulder.

“I’m sure we can find out in good time. Catch up will have to wait though.”

The three Elites looked up, as the now four Sovereigns looked down upon them, the interior of the courthouse seeming to shift more than ever. And they spread out, bracing themselves for the trial to begin in earnest.

TO BE CONTINUED...