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He simply rolled his eyes and without any more hesitation, he pushed the door open.
The sight that greeted us was… strange. A single large circular room that stretched up into darkness. If I’d have to guess, I’d have said it was the full height of the building itself. Columns stood at intervals around the walls, but in the centre where you’d expect there to be an altar was a single huge column, its base easily ten feet across.
"Hey, Alastor," Ash's voice cut through the stillness. "Mind if we get some more light in here?" He stood near the entrance, next to another one of those oil bowls, red flames dancing round the fingers of one hand. A second one stood on the other side of the door. There was a touch of something in his voice I couldn’tplace. Sarcasm maybe. Alastor hadn’t liked him lighting up the whole city.
"Light them up," Alastor responded.
With a snort that might have been amusement, Ash touched his demonic flames to the oil basins flanking the entranceway. In moments, the room was bathed in a warm glow that lit up the place and lifted my spirits a touch, until I saw another Solomon’s circle carved into the floor surrounding the column, intricate and foreboding.
“The column,” said Sariel, moving closer, but being careful not to step over the boundary of the circle. “Look at the carvings.”
I moved up next to her, as did the others, gaping at the relief that wound around the column.
"Looks like Solomon had quite the workforce," Carlisle commented.
"Workforce is one word for it," Alastor muttered, peering closer at the scenes depicted in the relief.
Tortured figures twisted within the stone; their faces contorted in pain. Demons, driven by Solomon's will, laboured under whips and chains to expand his temple, to carve out tunnels through bedrock. Their suffering was so meticulously captured, it was almost as if I could hear the crack of leather, feel the weight of the lash.
"Charming fellow, that Solomon," I said, unable to tear my eyes from the grotesque display.
"Didn't exactly believe in taking tea breaks," Ash agreed.
"Guess that's one way to get a union going," I quipped, but the joke fell flat even to my own ears as the enormity of what we were seeing settled over us like so much grave dust.
Solomon's legacy was more than just wisdom and wealth—it was a testament to power, and the lengths one would go to harness it. The wisest man who’d ever lived, so many said. But also, quite possibly one of the cruellest. For the first timeI wondered whether finding this scroll and bringing it to light, even to the Concordia, was a good idea. If it scared them, what the hell was written in it?
Alastor stepped back. “Ok, the scroll must be somewhere here. This was clearly added after the city fell, I assume by Solomon himself, so I'm fairly certain we’re in the right place. Let's spread out and see what we can find. Watch the floor.”
We did as ordered, fanning out from the central column, but with no luck. The room yielded no secrets, no hidden doors or passages—just the same oppressive stillness that had been our only greeting since we entered the temple.
"Looks like Solomon wasn't big on guest rooms," Carlisle muttered.
"Or maybe he just liked open concept living," I mused aloud, earning a snort from Ash.
"Let's hope he didn't have a thing for trapdoors," Ash said, and despite the tension, I couldn't help but laugh at the thought of us all tumbling into some ancient booby-trap. Despite the hellish fireballs I’d seen him throw at those hellions, the guy was growing on me.
"Keep your eyes peeled," Alastor said, prowling around the circumference of the chamber. "There has to be something we're missing."
"Maybe it's invisible," I suggested, half-serious. "In which case, we could be here a while."
"Helpful, Theo," Ash drawled.
A few minutes later, even Alastor had to admit that there was nothing else here. He turned back to the column and scanned it, trying to make out the top.
"Can't see a damn thing up there," he muttered, frustration evident in his voice.
"Want me to take a look?" Sariel asked quietly.
"You sure?” he asked. “That Solomon's circle might not be just for show."
She shrugged. “Circles like those don’t affect me.” She stepped forward, waving her arm casually over the etched pattern on the floor. I held my breath, half-expecting the ancient symbols to flare up or zap her with mystical energy. But nothing happened. No light, no sound, no reaction at all.
"See? Nothing." Sariel's voice was steady, but I caught the slight smirk playing on her lips as she looked back at Alastor.
He hesitated, his gaze locking with hers for a heartbeat, two. Then he nodded, once, sharply. "Alright. Be careful."
With the barest of nods, she unfolded her wings and with a powerful downstroke, she propelled herself upwards, leaving the ground with an ease that made my wolfish heart jealous. Flight, the ultimate freedom.
