“Why is all this here?” Shaw looked over the mausoleum of ancient statues. Great war machines and colossal guardians in permanent attention lined the dusty floor as far as the eye could see.
“It was once needed.” Ishmael guided him through the rows of infantry for what seemed an eternity. The machine’s circuitry cackled and gave a lantern glow as Shaw followed. “We are almost here.”
In front of them stood an archway. Hieroglyphs lined a gateway immense for Shaw, yet adequate for his mechanized guide; Ishmael placed his hand on the gateway, “Mara hesis zufallen.”
Symbols and runes lit as the arcane gate unlocked itself; blue light infiltrated the mausoleum and shone on Shaw’s face. Disbelief flooded his mind as he beheld a woman suspended in the air.
“She is finished. Her mind that galvanizes this place can no longer contain the voices that cry out. You must help her, scion.” Ishmael dislodged a device from the room and handed it to him.
“Others have died for this, but you will not. This is your life now.”