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Kultur grimaced, his eyes hardening. ‘I cannot disrespect you this way. I insist on using your official kína, Kíríga.’
Killen huffed. ‘I’ve little time for pomp and glory.’
Kultur took umbrage, his krest stiffening. ‘As the consort, you’ll need to show some acceptance for the traditions of our people.’
Killen’s jaw ticked, but he relented. ‘I apologise if I offended you, Kultur. I’m just not used to titles.’
Kaxim stepped in. ‘Don’t mind Kultur. He holds onto past rituals and is a stickler for duty and convention. Which is a good thing, as we cannot move into the future without understanding the past.’
Kultur shot him a cool smile, his eyes sweeping the quartet, stopping for a fleeting moment at Sana’a before flicking his gaze back to Killen. ‘Welcome to the Kíota, Kíríga. It is for your use whenever you need it. The only ones here will be yourselves. It has been abandoned since your grandfather passed. No one will know of your presence here, for its shields and ramparts are solid, and it remains unseen from the surface as it has remained for eons. Let me lead you to the training hall, which is what you’re here for.’
He spun on his heel and marched forward.
It didn’t go unnoticed to Sana’a that the older man ignored her and had extended no such welcome.
She sucked her cheek, ignoring the slight annoyance that washed over her, letting it dissipate to nothing. She’d no time for those who’d none for her.
The group exchanged glances, and when Killen jerked his chin, they followed.
Stalking through the kíota’s ethereal halls, Sana’a could sense the presence of age-old kings who had once called this place their den. The air was thick with their memories, a tapestry woven with centuries of knowledge and wisdom.
The complex was made of glistening crystal and opalescent gems that radiated with a soft, gilded glow.
Intricate carvings depicting celestial winged beings and constellations adored its walls, their beauty captivating the senses.
Between the stones and on the marble columns were ancient runes, spells and incantations, the íkan power dense and rich throughout.
They tracked past a garden where vibrant flowers bloomed in impossible hues, their petals shimmering like precious gemstones. The air above the stunning kíota crackled with otherworldly energy, carrying a sense of archaic potency.
It was clear that Kaxim and Kione had been here before.
The pair moved with purpose and speed ahead while Killen and Sana’a strayed behind.
Sana’a lingered, entranced by the kíota’s beauty and the surrounding celestial mysticism.
She caught Killen’s eye. He smiled, and her lips curled up in response.
At that moment, all that was around them disappeared. It was as if time itself stood still in this gossamer-like sanctuary.
She shook her head from their shared gaze and strode off.
He followed with a small smile as they walked into an open space surrounded by more of the kíota’s crystalline architecture.
‘Welcome to the Kíríga’s íkhara,’ Kultur announced. ‘The fight house, the core of flight, the place of blades and wings. A dedicated venue for immersive sab?r koya learning, experiential training and meditation.’
As Sana’a stepped inside, the air was imbued with a delicate, floral scent, as if the very essence of nature had been captured within.
The facility was equipped with fight cages and rings crafted from a blend of krustallos and metal in harmony with their surroundings.
It was like being enclosed in a giant crystal, with light streaming in from all directions and reflecting off the polished floors. The space was open, expansive, focused, and purposeful, making it the perfect setting for honing one’s skills.
Sana’a approached a set of daggers made of krustallos, their smooth surfaces glinting with an otherworldly luminescence.
A surge of energy coursed through her fingertips as she reached out to grip the handles. The latent power channelled the potency of the crystalline environment around her.
She looked up and met Killen’s eyes.
‘Will this do?’ he rasped.
