The world was quiet, its figurative breath held in anticipation of the coming dawn. A mere hour and half before the first glimmering of the sun brushed the wet streets and awakened the denizens of the city to their routines born of necessity. Street lamps, traffic signals, and the stray smattering of neon were the only intruders upon the quiet cloak of the night.

Them and the unlucky few that wandered the streets.

This was his favorite time. The quiet reminded him of home, relaxing him. During the bustle of the day his senses would scream from the overload of foreign scents, noises, and tastes keeping his ventures out shortened lest he would go mad from it all. But the night, it was quiet, and fitted his nature. So he tried to do most of his tasks throughout the night, saving this most precious moment of time for his own. Sometimes he would simply wander through the city streets and parks, others he would take to the rooftops and navigate the city that way. Sometimes he would simply pick a local and watch the city and the few that also took to this time out of either necessity or their own choosing. Other nights he would slip into the various museums and libraries and study.

Tonight was the latter.

Slipping into the museum was a task made easy by lessons taught by Storm and Rage what seemed long ago, and soon he was casually strolling through the exhibit to be unveiled that very day. The exhibit was one detailing the one of this world's earliest civilizations, the name of which escaped him but that did not keep him from carefully inspecting each display and reading the descriptive placard describing each. Occasionally he would slip the tablet he kept tucked in the inner pocket of his leather jacket to make a careful note on one or the other. He was soon engrossed, but nagged at a similarity that he could not define.

His thought were interrupted by soft steps approaching from a corridor intersecting his exit route, quickly and silently collecting himself he slipped around a pedal mounted sarcophagus the seek concealment behind it and the wall hanging depicting scenes from a culture gone long ago. No concern of being caught crossed his mind, just simple annoyance at being interrupted. 

The steps drew closer and he could tell it was two individuals, not one, and they were deep in a hushed conversation.

"The cattle do not even realize what they have found." the first voice, male, authoritative, cool.

"They seldom do." The second voice feminine but no less authoritative. Her voice clipped. He could hear one move to the sarcophagus, " Are you certain this is the one?"

"Yes captain, it fits the description perfectly and.", a muttering too low for even his hearing to make out, but an ethereal light began to spill under the tapestry. " The mark is still present."

This night of all nights he thought to himself. He remained motionless, scarcely breathing through his parted lips. Then it dawned upon him and the realization of whom, or to be more precise of what the two speaking were shook him. They spoke his native tongue. A tongue not originating on this world, but one far removed, Gi'kell.  [ Continue ]

written by PaH