"The Agarthan emmissary? He has no retinue," Sumira said to her friend.

"Not that we can see," Astaja replied with a pointed glance at the ground below.

"Is he one of their warriors? Or one of their sorcerers?"

"Sort of both and sort of neither..." The dark-haired woman lowered her voice and leaned in. "They're one of the Reavers."

Sumira felt a shiver down her spine, in spite of the heat of the sun on her back. "It's the season of tribute already," she said, her voice just as low, but even under the sense of foreboding, there was fascination.

"You didn't expect them to be beautiful," Astaja teased.

"Why 'them'?"

"Because I've heard tell that they are one formed of many, weaving themselves into a single being. And that even beyond that, they are one with the hives beneath, somehow both separate and not."

"What do you think the hives are like?"

"I've never been past the Vaults, but it was... as strange as you'd expect, I suppose. Vast and filled with hushed echoes. The air was still and warm."