Sanctity, Breached

Silence in the night is cut through by footsteps on the wooden floors, attempting to be muffled by careful placement but fueled via rage. Breath clouds life into still air and twinged it with poison.  No one's supposed to be in there right now. Light is void as dust hangs in time in between the shelves.  Old occult books, herbalism guides, novels as far as the eye can see. Its a treasure trove of information, of imagination, carefully crafted with love and the intent of a priestess. But it's not these titles that the intruder is looking for.

Under normal eyes, it's just a library.

It's always just been that - full of information, but ultimately mundane. Strange, for something held by such a Shaea.

Aura knows better.

Blue eyes twinkle with the power of magick, with hunger for knowledge, with the pure blooded fire of revenge. 

 Under the rules of this world, nothing can truly ever be hidden by those who want it.

 She holds up a glass with the symbol of an eye, carefully carved and catching the little light there is. Catching the light - and the quintessence.

The outline of the archive lights up in a faint golden glow.  One step closer to the truth, one step closer to what she wants.  Air catches in Aura's lungs as she sees it - a door made of pure potential. The entry to a sanctum - the only barrier between her and all of House Shaea's knowledge. Every inch of willpower is spent trying not to gasp in awe.  It's so close she could taste it. All she needed to do was take the leap.

Here's the thing about sanctums.

They're deeply personal, formed by the will, dreams, and practice of its owner. It is as much the home of their soul as their physical body, and every inch of its area could be a curve of their body. Aura crosses the threshold, and for a moment, there is silence.

With each step further in, a word is whispered.

Traitor.

Each flick of the eye, something is communicated.

Liar.

Her hand reaches out, and truth is written into reality.

Abuser.

Her breath hitches with excitement, and fate swirls around it.

Intruder.

Thief.

Why?

Why?

Do you know what you've done?

Do you ever known what you've ever done?

Do you know the pain you caused?

Do you know the hearts you've shattered?

Have you ever known anything beyond the tip of your own nose?

The world breathes and it's voice is heavy.

Lifetime after lifetime you have searched for truth, for the root of all things. That filthy lie you call 'Ars Prima'.

And all you think you've left is entropical tears, rifts in my space-time that'll one day heal.

You know not of the rips you've made in souls.

In lives, in existences, in hearts and minds that will take many, many moons to heal.

Aura feels the sanctum itself beating down on her, and she's held in infinity by it.

You are selfish.

You are cruel.

And you are an intruder.

Sound cracks through the quantum space of language itself, and the door swings open with a roar. Silver eyes glow in the night, pointed horns flashing red. The archivist's voice is not their own, rather rasping and echoing through the ideals of many, multitudes of and idea, an emotion. Rage.

She speaks a single word.

" Leave. "

Lifetimes layer across one another in a blink of an eye, and then static turns to wind. She feels the swipe of a fist, and suddenly she's running.  The wood of the archive becomes the cobbled streets of Abeona, her pursuer echoing like the chimes of a clocktower. " When I said leave, I meant it! Go! Go! I never want to see your face ever again! You've violated me and mine for the last time! "

 A sanctum is a holy place.

When the unwanted crosses the threshold, Kefi knows. It rips through their body like someone trying to tear at their throat and bring out all the bile. It's blood boiling, it's gut wrenching, it feels like filth.Selfish thing, unruly thing, such a self-pitying magus ripping through that cutesy mask begging for forgiveness with wide eyes makes the Shaea see red.

And with that bile she spits poison.

" RUN YOU BITCH! "

And in that moment, Aura runs through the barrier, a barrier that for all means, is one way. Kefi skids to a halt, worn weary, lungs scorched from the screaming.  She stands there, the midnight wind cooling a flaming heart.

She watches the coward run, and she sees the dance.  The guilt trip.  The false demeanor slipping.  Again, and again, and again. She sees the dragon, worn and weary in her bed. The concern in Lala's eyes. The tears streaming down her face. Again, and again, and again.  And into the gauntlet the Impling spits.  To no end- Aura's hit the hills by now. But it makes the walk back a little easier.