Locating a demigod who preferred to stay hidden became a mission assigned to the experts. Jareth's connections buzzed with encrypted requests Sierra Slate sifted through years of scout knowledge for signs of drift " and Morgan Morningstar accessed the fragmented remnants of his own celestial-rebel associates.
The solution when it appeared was neither, in a temple nor a hidden pocket dimension. Instead it lay within a location known as the Rustwell, a partially movable community constructed within and upon the remains of an abandoned pre-fall super-freighter which was now stranded in a poisonous salt flat.
"Kuro Kane prefers to maintain impartiality " Morgan said while getting ready to depart. The mountain refuge now resembled a base with Jareth's followers strengthening the defenses and Celeste collaborating with Tania to amass medical and alchemical provisions. "He trades in information, relics and even allegiances. Yet he never demands money. His cost is always a favor or a fragment of your history.. The favor is invariably… troublesome."
"He's a storytelling leech " Sierra stated plainly inspecting her equipment.
"He's a survivor " Cassiathon amended, though a strong discomfort lingered within him. A creature dealing in tales seemed too similar, to Nyx yet with a more mercenary slant.
The expedition to the Rustwell involved crossing some of the devastated terrains yet—sour marshlands, groves of fragile crystal-like "trees" that whispered with the breeze and fields where even the light appeared to thicken. They moved with baggage: Cassiathon Morgan acting as the guide and Sierra, as the lookout.
The Rustwell stood as a testament, to creativity. Smoke billowed from improvised chimneys; the noises of trade, labor and occasional conflict reverberated through its metallic core. The atmosphere reeked of ozone, metal and unclean flesh. It was completely intensely human.
Morgan guided them across the marketplace occupying the old freight deck weaving past vendors offering reclaimed gadgets, altered animals and suspicious "Abyss-proof" talismans. He paused in front of a booth that appeared to deal in damaged music boxes.
The seller was a lady with cloudy eyes. Morgan set down a unusually formed coin on her countertop. She touched it gave a nod and indicated with a finger, toward a sloping ramp adorned with warning signs.
They descended into the damp reverberating section of the ship. The sounds diminished, overtaken by the creak of metal and the patter of polluted water. Within a chamber that was formerly a cargo hold now illuminated by unstable argon lamps they located their objective.
Kuro Kane defied Cassiathon's expectations. Appearing youthful, likely, in his twenties he had tousled black hair and eyes resembling a stormy dusk—grey intertwined with streaks of amber. Dressed in utilitarian engineer's overalls he was immersed elbow-deep in the interior of a glowing semi-organic engine emitting a soft blue glow. He remained focused not raising his gaze as they neared.
"Morgan Morningstar. Descending once more I observe.. You've come with the centerpiece." His tone was lighthearted, casual. He extracted a cluster of crystalline cables from the engine and flung it away with an irritated exhale. "The intrigue deepens surrounding you Abysswalker. Deaths foster child the Queens forsaken catalyst. A fascinating part."
"What information are you seeking?" Cassiathon inquired, getting straight, to the point.
Kuro eventually raised his gaze drying his hands with a cloth. His grin was dazzling yet completely disingenuous. "Getting right, to the point! I like that. What do I desire?" He tapped his chin pacing around them. "The Queen desires to claim you. Death seeks to lead you. Nyx wishes to observe your growth. Dull simple trifling struggles." He halted before Cassiathon. "I want to discover your desire. Not the straightforward reply. The genuine hidden unpleasant desire. That's my fee. Reveal that to me. I'll share with you what's necessary to make it through the upcoming phase."
It was a violation more intimate than any physical threat.
"You shouldn't ask that " Sierra remarked, her hand moving toward her rifle.
"I already did " Kuro replied, his grin unwavering. ". He will settle it. Because what I'm offering is the whereabouts of the individual who might be capable of loosening the tangle within him before the Queen exploits it to condemn all of you."
Cassiathons blood chilled. "Who?"
"Ah ah ah " Kuro clicked his tongue. "Pay first."
Morgan advanced. "Kane this is serious."
"Everything is a contest " Kuro responded, his gaze growing steely. The mischievous demigod had vanished, supplanted by an age- merciless presence. "Particularly survival. So Abysswalker. Your hidden desire. Immediately."
The hold remained save, for the sound of water dripping. Cassiathon sensed their gaze upon him. He turned inward beyond obligation, dread and affection into the shadowy still space he had always ignored.
He uttered the speech ripped away from him. "I wish for the pain to cease. I want the voices—my fathers coldness, my mothers comfort the Queens murmur, the turmoil in my veins—to simply… fall silent. I want to exist as nothing, for a moment. No fate, no struggle, no affection, no suffering. Just… silence."
The confession lingered in the air, disgraceful yet real.
Kuro Kanes grin turned sincere yet paradoxically more menacing. "Perfect. That certainly is an incentive." He dug into his coveralls. Retrieved a small battered data-slate. He flung it toward Morgan. "Coordinates. A site named the Silent Monastery. It doesn't appear on any chart. It dwells in a crevice, between 'past' and 'possible.' Within resides an entity called the Weaver of Fates. She was, until she lost her mind attempting to perceive all the strands. Shes shattered,. She remains the sole person capable of discerning the pattern of your opposing legacies well enough to possibly just possibly guide you on how to carry them without falling apart.
He turned back to his engine. "The price is paid. Get out. And good luck. You're going to need it more than you know."