Despite that one insistent thought flitting about in her head, the young woman kept moving forward one foot in front of the other. The Altar loomed ominously overhead in a shocking parody of some manmade structure she could not recall the name of. Ambar knew from what little research she could find on the Altars that each one had a unique appearance, but the geometric anomaly before her was something else entirely. The altar in Dubland was vaguely pyramid shaped with runes that looked so much like waves and crests. The one in Hawaii was a group of obsidian shards pulsing red. For all intents and purposes, they were beautiful in an eerie sort of way.
The tourists already saw you pass the yellow line, it'd be embarassing to go back now. Damnit. You stupid idiot.
Why was it, Ambar thought sullenly, that the Altar closest to her home was this thing. The Altar looked like nothing more than a jagged, twisting mass of silver that somehow formed perfect angles and an obelisk shape despite the gaps in its design. The odd designs around the base constantly writhed with a life of their own, their meaning just barely out of understanding but not so alien that one could not try to decipher their meaning. It was disconcerting.
This is the point of no return.
It had not been her best idea. Doing this in broad daylight, in the middle of New York City on a Friday afternoon with four-dozen tourists crowded around the gleaming altar was the kind of poorly constructed plan that riddled Ambar's life, now that she thought about it. It was too late for those kinds of thoughts though. The Altar felt cool and smooth against her palm in defiance of the afternoon sun blazing down against it. The hushed whispers of the crowd were making Ambar's stomach turn.
With a cry of anguish Ambar tore her hand away from the altar and fell to her knees. She was on all fours and vomiting her guts out in moments. Damnit. I knew I'd chicken out, fuck, fuck. Wiping a bit of saliva from the corner of her mouth and choking back a sob, Ambar took a moment to regain her footing. She nearly lost it again when she stared out over a commanding view of a heavily wooded area.
It was so poorly lit by some sort of ambient light that it was hard to discern at first, but Ambar slowly came to the realization that she was not in Kansas anymore. The smell hit her first. A mix of earthy loam and a charnel house. A sudden tightness against the three longest fingers of her left hand was the second thing that came to her attention.
In the wan light, Ambar made out three bands against her skin. They would be the only reason she survived the next few days.
Twelve Days Later, the Meeting
It was hard to blame Violet. That freak, Patraeko, was startling enough as it was without him actually touching you. Ambar shuddered as she settled in to her seat. It was not that he had cybernetic implants–Ambar was hardly as judgemental as all that to dislike someone based on some body modifications–that unnerved her about that man. It was everything else.
Petraeko was unabashedly unhinged. He made no attempt to hide his imbalance. His modifications were hardly legal, on that note. The parrot that acted as his constant company was icing on the nutcake that was Petraeko. Just as he was doing with Violet, David had given Ambar the courtesy of explaining some basics about the realm in which they now dwelled. The knowledge that Seekers grew in power by slaying other Seekers was hardly comforting with people like the cyborg around.
Turning her attention back to the discussion at hand, Ambar nodded in consideration. From what she had learned of Ezekiel, this dude was a total badass. In the time she had joined the small settlement, three people had died in some gruesome fashion or another. It was painfully obvious that they were not equipped to endure their surroundings without protectors like this Ezekiel.
Without thinking Ambar raised her hand to call for attention.
“I volunteer to go search for him!” keenly aware of the sudden attention, Ambar ran a hand through her hair and began twiddling with the rings on her left hand. “I mean, my Aegis is sort of perfect for running and getting out of trouble. With enough supplies and a lead, I could probably keep safe for a while as I search for this Ezekial guy...”
Ambar adjusted her glasses and meekly scanned the room for any sort of support. The gesture was hardly altruistic. She just figured that the more useful she made herself to these people, the less likely they were to outright slaughter her to increase their own power.
Finding Ezekiel would just be a bonus.