It was never a good omen when one's mother came barreling into the room, shouting one's full name at the top of her lungs.

On that day, Nicolaus Sagan found out that mothers had the prerogative right to enter her children's abode without knocking. She had thrown the door open with the full force of her well-muscled arm, sending the wooden door of the observatory crashing to the wall with a loud bang. Sagan's wrist flew across the page of the notebook he had been writing on, leaving a large smear of black ink across the paper. His owl feather quill slipped out of his fingers, rolling past the edge of the desk and dropping to the ground with a clatter.

The gray-skinned orkhus woman stood in the doorway with fire in her eyes and her muscular arms crossed underneath her breasts. Sagan's small yellow eyes were drawn downwards to her attire. She was still garbed in the layered burnt sienna robes of a Pyre-Tender: an orkhus so gifted with pyromancy that she was tasked to tend to the Primeval Flame. The long skirt of her robes pooled around her ankles. Her head was crowned with an ornate headwear of rubies embedded in silver, which glimmered in the sunlight filtering in from the oculus upon the domed roof.

She wasted no time in marching up to him, who was still seated at his disorganized desk in silent mourning over the destruction of his notes. Her copper plait swished behind her as she made her way up the stairs that spiraled up the side of the circular chamber's walls, leading to the platform Sagan was on. She had to gather up the fabric of her skirt within her large palms. The wooden soles of her sandals made a loud thump each time they connected with the steps.

"Nicolaus Sagan!" his mother bellowed. Sagan swallowed a gulp. It was always an ominous sign whenever she addressed him by his full name. "Get your lazy rear off your seat! You will come with me to the Vault of Embers, and you will do so immediately."

Sagan grimaced at the force behind her voice as he got up from his chair. He spared a glance back towards his messy desk, at the sheets of paper strewn about its mahogany surface. A hint of frustration wormed its way into his heart. He was in the middle of a particularly important research- one that might shed some light on the questions that his entire kind had. For months, years even, he'd been tirelessly charting the celestial objects. Mother just had to pick the most inopportune moment to disturb him.

"Mother, I'm in the middle of a very important resea-"

The words died in his throat at the sight of her wooden sandals. Sagan did not consider himself easy to frighten, but the extraordinary range in which those sandals could fly was something that put a shiver through his spine. They had, more often than not, found their way onto his broad forehead. That very thought effectively killed any vexation he had. Wondering silently if the gods were cursing him, he let out a sigh of submission.

"Alright," he finally relented, letting his broad shoulders sag a little. His research could wait a few hours- Mother's wrath was much more terrifying to deal with.

The orkhus woman raised a thick brow, scrutinizing him with her own yellow eyes. She jutted out her lower lip, which only served to pronounce her underbite and the two small tusks that stuck from her bottom jaw. Sagan knew that she sensed his inner rebellion, but was relieved that a sandal did not come soaring towards his head. She even neglected to mention anything, aside from wordlessly motioning towards the door with a tilt of her head.

There was an urgency in her steps, something that slightly piqued Sagan's interest. The fact that she was still wearing her Pyre-Tender attire indicated that she'd left her post just to go to his observatory and fetch him. He doubted it was merely for sentiment.

Sagan followed his mother down the spiral staircase and out of the observatory chamber. They stepped onto a circular platform. Iron bars rose around the perimeter of the platform, bending inwards towards the top so that they formed a domed roof above them. Standing in the contraption made him feel like a giant wingless bird trapped in a giant birdcage. He pulled the iron bars of the door shut and pulled a lever. The platform slowly descended down the tower, accompanied by the whirring of mechanisms and rattling of chains. Sagan stood next to his mother, awkwardly shifting his weight between his feet. He shot her furtive glances out of the corner of his eyes.

Taking a deep breath, he finally dared himself to ask the question that had been gnawing at him from the moment the woman voiced her order. "Why do you request my presence at the Vault of Embers, Mother?"

"You'll see," was his mother's cryptic answer. He decided not to press the matter. Mother was an unpredictable woman, and there was no telling what she might do if he offended her. He'd rather not take the risk inside the confines of a birdcage.

The cage contraption finally reached the bottom of the shaft with an echoing thump. The door creaked open, and his mother was the first to step outside of the building. Sagan saw a cart waiting for them just outside. It was attached to a large, hairy yak. Its coat was a shade of dusty brown, with dust and dirt sticking to the bottom strands of their fur. Flies flew around the creature's hump. It gave a snort when Sagan approached.

He wrinkled his nose. What a foul-mannered creature.

His mother took the reins, and that was the moment Sagan knew that he'd made another mistake. She drove like a madwoman through the sloping streets of Greypyre, careening around corners and inviting angry yells from other yak-drivers around them. He even heard an orkhus curse his mother as she cut through his path, not that she seemed to have minded. Sagan was too busy hanging onto the low sides of the cart for dear life.

By some miracle of the gods, they arrived at the their destination with all their bones and limbs intact. Sagan stumbled off the cart in a daze, his legs shaking like a boneless mollusk. His mother grabbed him by the wrist, ignoring the fact that he looked close to tossing his breakfast and dragging him towards the towering edifice in front of them.

The moment he entered the vestibule of the Nucleus, he was bombarded by the hustle and bustle of the orkhus rushing to and fro. The ceiling rose all the way to the top of the building, with an oculus that bathed the interior of the building with sunlight. The groans of the staircases that periodically shifted from platform to platform rumbled throughout the vestibule. Sagan had lifted his yellow gaze to stare at the strange mechanisms in fascination.

Truth be told, he was very much enthralled by the sight of it all. The orkhus seldom left his little observatory, let alone visit the Nucleus. The center of knowledge in the orkhus nation of Southcliffs- no, in all of Jordarys, was the workplace of dreams. He saw rows and rows of bookshelves from what little was visible from the platforms. There were more extending deeper into the building- centuries' worth of findings compiled from researchers and explorers throughout the ages. What a beautiful sight!

His mother did not give him any time to gawk at the Nucleus and its wonderful sights, for she quickly dragged him by the arm through the corridors. Sagan tripped countless of times trying to keep up with the force of his mother, while absently noting the way every other orkhus seemed to step aside to let his mother pass. The perks of being someone important, he thought, a little surprised at how bitter his mind's voice sounded.

She led him into yet another cage elevator, though it was undeniably larger than the one that led up and down his observatory tower. The stains on its iron bars denoted its age and the amount of use it had seen. The contraption began its descent with a worrisome jerk, causing Sagan's bulky body to lurch forwards. He steadied himself by gripping one of the iron bars of the cage. The cage swayed precariously as it continued to lower itself into the deeper recesses of the earth. Sometimes, the cage would give a small shudder. A dismal bleakness started to envelop them, pushing away the light they were leaving behind in the world of the surface.

"They should've put a miniature gramophone here," he commented in a low voice as the awful rattling and clanking of chains reverberated through the narrow shaft. "It would have been nice to make the descent while listening to music, don't you think?"

A smile lit up his mother's normally-cantankerous face- the first he'd seen throughout the day. "I should probably suggest that to the Department of Building Maintenance," she responded, tilting her head towards Sagan. "This is the first good suggestion you've made this day, Son. I'm actually surprised."

Sagan bowed his head, albeit in a joking manner. "Glad to be of service, Mother."

The shaft disembogued into a vast underground chamber that looked much wider than the entire exterior of the Nucleus building itself. Lanterns and torches hung from the jagged stone walls of the chamber. Their shadows eerily danced upon those uneven rocky walls, magnified by the dim lighting to gigantic proportions. The orkhus took a small peek outside of the bars. Only two circular stone platforms connected by a long bridge stood among the hollowness of the chamber, supported by beams that stretched all the way down to the bottomless chasm. Sagan could see naught but a gloomy blackness at the base of the chamber- he did not know how far down it went, and certainly did not want to find out. The sight of it, coupled with the dangerous swaying of the cage elevator, made Sagan's legs tremble.

An uncharacteristic grin of mischief flashed onto the orkhus woman's face. "You look dreadfully pale, my son," she pointed out. "You better start getting used to heights."

"I- I live inside a tower, Mother," the man started to reply, though he could not hide the stutter in his voice. The Pyre-Tender laughed.

The cage finally touched down upon the smaller of the circular platforms, sending up a cloud of dust upon contact. With an unsettling creak, the rusted iron door of the cage swung open. Sagan spotted a few robed figures standing on the opposite platform, in front of an enormous bronze statue. Even from where he was, he could distinguish the different hues of their raiments. Immediately, the orkhus felt self-conscious about his appearance. Mother had expected him in the Vault of Embers, but she did not tell him the High Council of Scholars would be there!

Of course, his mother showed no concern over the fact that her son looked like a gigantic piece of wyrm dung. She walked over the narrow stone bridge that connected both platforms, her head held high with confidence and self-assurance. Sagan, on the other hand, trailed after her like a rat. He ran his bulky hands several times over his own copper hair, making sure his little braids had not unraveled in the journey. He straightened his sleeveless navy vest, feeling very disappointed that he had not worn his tie that day. Little beads of perspiration crawled down the sides of his temples, rolling down his gray neck. Sweat soaked the insides of his palms. He had expected to spend the rest of the day in the solitude of his observatory. Life certainly had a way to subvert his expectations.

Ironically, the first thing he noticed upon reaching the opposite platform was not the people he had been very anxious to face. A large shadow loomed over all of them, rippling with instability within the ever-flickering lights of the torches. Sagan's gaze was drawn upwards, scanning over the sculpted features of the enormous bronze statue that was kneeling on one knee. He almost marveled how it had looked so small from high up in the elevator, when it was hundreds of times bigger than any one of them.

Only the uneducated would not know that the Gargantuan served as the orkhus nation's Flamebound- vessels to hold the Primeval Flame. The statue was named after the Gargants, some ancient people of gigantic proportions that roamed the highlands where the orkhus's nation once stood. Gargantuan certainly resembled what fossils and relics were found of the Gargants, though the orkhus had long forgotten who or what the Gargants were. Sagan found it the laughable irony that their own people should be named the "orkhus", which roughly translated to "forget" in what was known of the Gargant language. Not only have his people forgotten their predecessors, they have even forgotten their own patron god.

Not everyone had the honor to look upon the Gargantuan with their very own eyes, and especially not this close in proximity. Sagan allowed his eyes to feast on the marvelous sight. Gargantuan was a masterpiece of a construction project. Its two horns gleamed in the orange light of the torches, rising pridefully above its head. Despite the glorious, prideful horns that crowned its head, melancholy painted the bronze statue's face. Its neck formed a drooping arch, almost as if it was in deep mourning. Gargantuan's giant hands cradled a broken sphere the way a mother would cradle her baby.

Effulgent blood-red danced within the core of the broken sphere, bathing the area with the eerie light of the Primeval Flame. The sight entranced him, yet also instilled within his heart a strange fright. The flames radiated an aura of ancient, untold powers. He felt compelled to avert his eyes from the flames.

"I have brought him," his mother said, her voice leading his attention back towards the council.

His heart nearly stopped when he set his sights upon the man in the center of the group. His father, the Head of Scholars, was a man of a formidable physique. His long black hair ran down the sides of his head in braids, with golden beads weaved into them. The man was looking at Sagan with his striking yellow eyes, almost identical to Sagan's own to the point that it almost felt as if he was staring into a mirror. However, his stare seemed to pile invisible weights of judgement onto Sagan's shoulders. Sagan tried his best not to shrink against the sudden burden.

"Him? Are you certain about that, Rosalind?" a skeptic voice questioned. It came from a bespectacled man standing to the left of his father. Sagan felt a certain... disdain coming from the man's observing gaze.

His mother nodded. "I know my son, Tycho," she said, firmly. "I know he is perfectly capable of carrying out the job."

Whatever it is, I'm probably not, Sagan wanted to say, but he kept his silence. He would not say such things under the scrutiny of his father. The man called Tycho pursed his lips, the tusks protruding from his lower jaw sliding closer towards the center of his mouth.

"Nicolaus Sagan," another man spoke, this time standing to the right of his father. "We, the High Council of Scholars, have decided to assign you with a task of utmost importance."

His hairless head reflected a sheen of light. On the other hand, his chin sprouted a growth of white that reached his navel. A golden band tied the end of the beard. Sagan looked at him expectantly.

"You will embark on a journey to examine the conditions of each of the Primeval Flames in the continent of Jordarys," he continued, solemnly. "Think of it as a research field work- all of your travel expenses will be covered by the High Council, and you will have the protection of an orkhus ambassador."

Sagan felt his stomach plummet at those words. His heart nearly stopped. His jaw dropped open, but no words could form on his tongue.

"T-travel?" he finally asked, once he regained his grasp on speech. "This is outside my field of expertise. I... I'm an astronomer, not an explorer."

"I have taught you enough of the Primeval pyromancies," his mother said. "You are perfect for this job."

"I'm not, Mother!" Sagan protested. "I- you know very well that I dislike leaving the observatory, let alone travel the whole continent as ambassador of the orkhus!"

Sagan turned back towards the council, panic and anger building up within his chest. He did not sign up for any of this! "Why can't anybody else go? Surely there are people who are more qualified, more-"

"How much longer are you going to keep this up?"

A jolt ran through Sagan's body. It was the first time his father spoke since he'd arrived at the Vault of Embers. He had not even acknowledged Sagan's presence in any way prior to this. His tone had been level and calm, but his gaze was flooded with scorn. Sagan felt his knees grow weak, his legs threatening to cave under the force of his father's contempt. He steeled his nerves, compelling himself to look straight at his father and meet his gaze. Any display of weakness would only make him more derisive.

"Keep what up?" he found himself saying, immediately regretting the defiant way those words had tumbled out of his lips. His father furrowed his thick brows.

"This ridiculousness," he said, waving a hand dismissively as if he was swatting away a fly. "How much longer are you going to pathetically wallow around in that observatory of yours, being of use to nobody and bearing no fruit on your research?"

Those words stung his heart. Sagan was immediately aware of all the eyes that had laid their sights on him, the weight of their judgements forming shackles around his arms and legs.

"How long has it been since you promised us results? Yet you still stand here, empty-handed."

"I'm close to finding the answers, Father," Sagan said, clenching and unclenching his fists. The spaces between his fingers were slick with sweat. "If you would give me a little long-"

"This isn't about who is available, Nicolaus," his father interrupted, obviously disinterested in hearing the rest of his excuse. "It's about you. We are offering you a chance to redeem yourself, to be a useful member of society... and still, you have the gall to try to worm your way out of this?"

"Father-"

Sagan's mother quickly gave him a nudge on his arm, silencing him. Sagan saw the sheer cold anger that swam within the lemon irises of his father's eyes. The words curled up and died in his throat.

"You will take this mission, Nicolaus. Or we will withdraw all funding for your pathetic, fruitless research."

He had no choice. The orkhus finally lowered his head, realizing his defeat. "Alright, Father."

"You will leave next morn."

When he'd finally regained the courage to lift his head, he saw that the anger in his father's eyes had dissipated. Slowly, he dared himself to ask the one question that gnawed at him.

"If I may be so daring as to ask... what is the purpose of this research trip?"

The entire council looked at each other in mild surprise, save for his father. It was his mother that finally spoke up.

"Have you not noticed, my child? Look at the Primeval Flames."

Sagan forced himself to look at the blood-red fire. It was then that he noticed the sporadic rhythm of its dance, how it flickered and waned like a dying fireplace. A cold feeling crept around his heart. The old words swam back into his mind. He looked at his mother, who had a grave expression on her face. She nodded slowly.

"The embers fade," she quoted. "And the Day of the Lightless shall be upon us."

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Chapter Writer: VeryBigMess

AN: A bit of a lengthy chapter here, but I hope you like it nonetheless! We do not usually post updates on weekdays, but we have to catch up on updates here haha XD

Anyways, a shoutout to Unspoken_Uprising for giving us a very detailed review on our chapters, even though it is not posted for public viewing. Both Fiona_jessie and I would like to give you our biggest gratitude for the suggestions, which have certainly helped us in improving our writing!

Of course, our biggest gratitude also extends to anyone reading this up to this point! We're so honored that you've decided to stick with us for six whole chapters. Any feedback is totally welcome and appreciated, so don't be afraid to drop a comment c: