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There weren't many places in The Blazing World that Margaret would describe as dark. When the entire population could create light at will, it made it seem that the entire land glowed. One of the few places she's ever seen shadows linger was the dungeons.
She gets why Mother and Father like to pretend this place doesn't exist— only members of the royal family even know where the entrance is— but whenever she visited, she always felt it was a bit gross, for lack of a better word.
Carpets of moss grew along cracks in the bricks, rust dotted metal bars that were mostly for show, and there was this persistent dripping upon the rock floor. That's what they get for building this inside a natural cave that rested beneath Starhold, she supposes.
Margaret had dressed down, adorned in a humble gray and navy waistcoat and black pants. Her sleeves were rolled up, showing off the thight bandages covering her arm. The wound under the cloth still stung, raw and chaffing from each step. By her side, Kal was similarly subtle, dressing like a living shadow. Margaret held her hands in front of her while Kal crossed his arms as they both stepped down the echoing staircase.
"Where're the guards?" Margaret pointed out, noting the lack of any living soul in the halls.
"They never stay down here, anyone stationed here uses it as break time." A sneer formed. "Can't say I blame 'em, though."
"Alright," she sighed. "If someone shows up, keep them busy until I'm back." Her expression turned grave. "And, again, don't tell Ahlaam."
Kal raised his hands in defense.
"I won't!"
"You tell her everything." She aimed a stern finger at him. "If she utters a word about this to me, you're getting put here for a month."
"Ok, ok," he bemoaned before motioning his head down to the row of sealed chambers.
Frowning slightly, Margaret stepped away, searching for any movement in the dim cells. It wasn't too hard to find.
The strange, silent woman was chained to the wall, heavy cuffs soaked with magic weighing her down. She sat on the floor, knees pressed against her chest and firmly staring down. Her once bright red hair was tangled, clotted with dirt.
"Remember me?" Margaret asked, her tone icy.
The woman didn't so much as twitch and Margaret gave a scoff devoid of mirth.
"Of course, you can't know who I am. Because if you did, you would have made sure I died." She pressed a few buttons on the keypad connected to the cell door. It produced a loud buzz and click. Margaret creaked it open, stepping through a Protection spell that rippled and flashed from her entrance. Her nose curled as she smelled the interior, stone reeking of age and hard water.
Stuffing down her disgust for the moment, Margaret tried to make herself look taller.
"Who sent you?"
Echoes of exploding Radiance fired in her ears, once more seeing this very woman aim burning light towards Father during her annual address to Paradise on her birthday. He's still in hospice, accompanied by Mother and Dakkar. A part of her wanted to be with them but Father was soon to recover and Margaret knew her true place was here, obtaining information from this would-be assassin. If there is a scheme to kill Father, she must uncover it.
Yet more silence. Glowering, shining magic flowed from Margaret's eyes, delicate wisps falling up her forehead and down her cheeks. Her focus darted up and down this woman, trying to sense stray thoughts. Nothing came off the woman, her mind perfectly hidden. She must have either Perception or Protection if she's able to be so guarded from Margaret's Perception.
As she searched, her vision now able to pierce the woman's clothes, she spotted something intriguing. Upon the woman's shoulder, hidden beneath her thick shirt, was a tattoo; one that Margaret knew well from her books.
"Shit," she breathed out, her magic dwindling into nothing. Urgent, she darted forward, gripping the woman's collar and popping out a few buttons as she revealed her upper arm. The woman's eyes went wide as she did so; some red welled in her cheeks at the same time.
There it was, a symbol resembling an eye, lines of prayer surrounding a circle with a raging fire inside. Within the roaring flames was a single word, 'Second'. This woman wasn't just anybody. She was a Child of The Gates, specifically from The Second Clan.
It was impossible, nobody had heard word from them in a hundred years. While no one had ever uncovered the true story, it was clear what had happened. When usual correspondence from the clan leader went silent, members of the capital island investigated. They found an empty, frozen over township, houses trapped beneath several dozen feet of snow. Days of digging did nothing but find more and more corpses to bury that needed to wait until the thaw to receive proper rites. Everyone was presumed dead and here a survivor stood.
Althrough, there was no way this woman was old enough to be from that time— she appeared around Margaret's age— which either meant the clan had rebuilt and chose not to tell anyone or that Margaret was looking at a ghost.
Her brow furrowed, Margaret placed her hand on the woman's neck. Soft Radiance swelled through her fingers, far from blinding but Margaret and the woman both knew it wouldn't take much effort for it to be.
"Who are you?"
The woman swallowed but remained quiet. With a mere thought, Margaret's hand turned into pure fire. The woman's flesh began to sizzle, she let out a whimper and bit down on her lip. She heaved for air, Margaret caught a tear dropping from her chin.
"Tell me and this stops."
Another flare and the surrounding moisture burned into hissing steam. The woman was glowing from the heat, blood rushing to the surface.
"Sia Vissard!" the woman screamed. Margaret instantly halted, pulling herself away.
"My name is Sia Vissard… of The Second…" She used a beat to catch her breath. "Some of us managed to escape the storm a hundred years ago. As many people as possible evacuated into the caves— the ones that're meant to lead into The Third— but they were sealed by the ice. It took months for us to dig out." Her attention seemed a thousand miles away, sniffling.
"Once out, we planned on asking the royal family for help when we recieved a vision." Sia's voice strained, words choking out around a lump in her throat. She paused, clenching her fists repeatedly, the muscles in her arms bulging.
"Well, what was it?"
Sia took a shaky breath, finally looking at Margaret.
"Your father is going to destroy The Blazing World."