Aethel, still recovering from the strain of his Heretic's Rune, watched as his comrades stared in disbelief at the immortal within the crystal cage.
Kyra fought to maintain her composure, grappling with the shattering of her understanding of reality. Everything she had believed, every line dividing fact from fiction, had been obliterated before her eyes. Locking him up had been the right choice, she wanted to shout, to convey to Aethel through the Mind-Lace. But she couldn't; her mind was still reeling from the implications of Yalis' and Aethel's revelations.
Driven by her training and experience, she forced herself to focus on the present. She approached the cage, her gaze locked with Iskander's glowing silver eyes. "I will repeat my question," she demanded, her voice firm despite the turmoil within. "Who are you?"
She knew he could not hear her through the soundproof barrier, but she was certain he could read her lips.
"Before you ask someone their name, you should offer yours first," Iskander replied, a smug smile playing on his lips as he tilted his head.
His arrogance was infuriating, yet familiar. Kyra could not help but grin. "True words," Yalis interjected, stepping closer to the cage. "Though I believe you already know who we are!"
"Why did you attack us?!" Sena demanded, her voice laced with disgust. "He makes my skin crawl!" she added through the Mind-Lace, sharing her revulsion with the others.
"I did not attack you," Iskander countered, his smirk widening. "You attacked me."
"Nonsense!" Gaia retorted. "You trapped us inside this bizarre sphere, injured Sena and me, and now you dare turn this on us after trying to kill us?"
"If I wanted you dead, you would be," Iskander replied, naked, he was settling down cross-legged on the cold floor of the cage. "I simply wanted to know who you were, yet you assumed the worst."
Yalis approached the cage, his gaze fixed on the immortal. "Is that how you extract information?" he asked, his voice laced with skepticism. Iskander's expression remained unchanged. "I theorized about your abilities, but your initial aggression confirmed one of my suspicions. I assume your information extraction requires certain conditions: drawing blood from living subjects while looking into their eyes."
"You must be Yalis," Iskander stated, his gaze sharp and unwavering.
"Then you know I was a traveling companion of Ronan," Yalis replied, his voice steady.
"I do," Iskander grinned. "That lad talks a lot."
"Then you know he sought revenge after you massacred his town," Yalis continued. "He knew he couldn't kill you, but he sought the next best thing: depriving you of your abilities and imprisoning you in Erathos by killing Cael."
At the mention of Cael, a flicker of emotion crossed Iskander's face, quickly masked by his usual smirk. "The herd boy is of no further use to me. After all, I have my godhood back." His eyes remained fixed on Yalis, avoiding the unconscious form of Cael lying nearby.
"Just answer our questions!" Kyra interjected, her patience wearing thin.
"I am," Iskander replied smugly.
"Then who are you?" Kyra demanded.
Iskander tilted his head, his grin widening. "Manners dictate..."
Kyra sighed in exasperation. "Talking to you is a waste of time."
"Time wastes you; you do not waste it," Iskander countered, his words a meaningless play on logic.
"Sophistry, and a stupid one at that!" Kyra retorted. "Forget it; I won't entertain your games. You can't escape this cage, and we'll be taking you with us once Daed breaks the Lock on this sphere."
"I see," Iskander replied, a hint of amusement in his voice as he briefly tilted his head. "And here I thought I could share some of my knowledge with you, after you were kind enough to share yours with me, Kyra!" He switched to Aetran, the language he had previously ignored, further provoking the marshal.
Kyra turned away, her frustration mounting. "I don't care anymore. Keep an eye on him," she ordered, striding towards Daed and CodeForger, who were still analyzing the data from the rifts.
She felt Iskander's gaze on her back, his presence unsettling and dangerous. He was too calm for a captive, especially after what he had learned from Sena and Gaia. She sensed he was worried, but she could not decipher the reason. Perhaps it was the fear of losing his advantage once the Lock was broken and the rifts closed. They would regain their powers, while he would remain powerless, trapped within the cage.
"Ever since I saw you in the Stone Rings, I've wondered what you were." Yalis' voice drew her attention back to the conversation. "I initially assumed you were a stranded Rider, but I soon changed my mind."
"If you're asking if I'm a new breed of Rider, the answer is no," Iskander responded with a condescending grin. "I am a god. And you lot are not of my Kin."
"God is too grand a word," Yalis scoffed. "We may be superior to Unawakened, but we are no gods. A true god would not be bound by the limitations of reality. You are just like us, bound and ruled."
"If that's what you believe, your perspective is pathetically narrow," Iskander retorted. "But I don't blame you; your limited powers have limited your minds."
Kyra knew Iskander was different, but his claims of godhood and the powers he wielded were unsettling. If he were telling the truth, he and his kin posed a threat to Exoklein. Riders could not stand against an immortal race with superior abilities. They had to neutralize him before his kind discovered their existence.
"You keep mentioning your kin," Yalis observed, as if reading Kyra's thoughts. "Who are they? And where can we find them?"
"How does that fit into our little conversation?" Iskander smirked, evading the question.
"Perhaps if you tell us more about them, we might help you go home," Yalis offered, hoping to glean information through the immortal's response.
The other Riders listened intently, understanding Yalis' strategy. They had to keep Iskander contained while extracting as much information as possible. Understanding him and his kind was crucial for their survival.
Kyra turned, observing Yalis' skillful interrogation. ShadowOne had more experience with subtle extraction techniques, so she trusted the old man's judgment. He had been the first to trust Aethel, and his calm demeanor and keen observations during the fight had impressed her. He was a valuable asset.
"I took you for a smart man," Iskander mocked, his smirk widening.
"I simply want to have a conversation," Yalis replied calmly.
Iskander's grin remained fixed.
"Then answer this instead," Yalis persisted. "What is the difference between StreamBreath and what you call the Anima?"
"And what would a curious old man, soon to turn to dust, do with that information?" Iskander retorted.
"Old men like to talk," Yalis said with a twinkle in his eye. "And as the oldest man here, you must be dying to have a good, long talk with someone worthy."
Iskander smiled. "They are the same, as is what you call the Nexus. You simply use different words."
"Don't lie," Yalis pressed, his expression unchanged.
"Am I lying?" Iskander countered, his smirk returning.
"Perhaps," Yalis replied. "Mixing truth with lies creates the best lies, blurring the lines between reality and deception."
"For how long have you been stuck here?" Gaia interjected, her voice sharp with curiosity.
"A while," Iskander replied coldly, his smile vanishing.
Gaia flinched, as if she had been slapped. She must have thought she was speaking to a programmed object, devoid of emotion or empathy.
"You see, I enjoy creating stories," Yalis said, returning to his previous tactic. "My imagination flows like rivers when I drink alone at night."
"I like good stories," Iskander replied, his grin returning. "As all old men do."
"You're the first I have the privilege of telling them to. So, please be gentle with your criticism," Yalis requested, playing along with the immortal's game.
Iskander stared at him, his expression unreadable.
"Very well then, I will tell you stories of three heroes who visited this sphere. The first, intrigued by its ancient mystique, came willingly to uncover its secrets. But somehow he found himself trapped, unable to leave."
"The word 'somehow' doesn't belong in a good story," Iskander interjected, his grin widening.
"Already criticizing, I see!" Yalis exclaimed with mock offense. "But I understand why you wouldn't like the story of the careless hero. It was a bit far-fetched. How about the second hero, then? One who could walk but knew nothing of Walkers, hailing from a land unknown to them. He remained oblivious to their existence until he met two Walker women and fell in love."
"I don't care for tales of affection," Iskander dismissed the story. "What about the third?"
"Ah, the third tale is about a hero who fell victim to a fluke, like myself. Ever since I stumbled into this VoidBubble by pure chance and escaped through the gateway you somehow created, its existence has haunted me. I studied everything I could, but I couldn't uncover its origins or how it exists outside the Nexus on a Null-Field." Yalis paused, his gaze fixed on Iskander. "But I believe your circumstances are different. You were trapped here intentionally, making you as ancient as this place, perhaps even older."
Everyone listened in rapt attention as Yalis continued his deductions. "I believe I know when and what this sphere is, though not how or by whom it was created. But I also believe I know why, and that reason is you. I suspect this sphere was designed to contain a powerful being, your prison. After you were trapped, it was placed on Erathos, a Null-Field, as a precaution. And I imagine you weren't pleased to discover that upon your escape."