He wasn't sure which was more startling. The fact that the old man had just read his thoughts or that he knew his name.
This introduced a new perspective. It seemed it might not be a coincidence at all— this man getting him to come here was intentional.
"You are correct," Eshmur said. "It was no coincidence."
Quinlan narrowed his eyes and scoffed. "So you know who I am?"
"That is incorrect."
"Huh?" he jerked back expressively. "You're confusing me, old man. You just called my name a moment ago."
"That is only your name," Eshmur replied, his tone maddeningly calm. "But who you are, I am yet to know. Are you the one who's going to follow me into that tunnel, or are you the one who turns tail and crawls back into the Dreglands?"
Quinlan appeared even more confused, even though he understood the point of the old man's words.
"I will inform you that your decision doesn't have the convenience of eternity. Make haste with your thoughts."
Quinlan stared at him for a while, then his face painted with decision.
The journey was long. The tunnel twisted and curved, stretching its length beneath the city's foundation.
To Quinlan, it seemed to be extending the more they walked, and the deeper they went, the colder it became.
Quinlan hated the cold.
He asked Eshmur if he possessed any powers that could keep them warm. Eshmur, rather than reminding him that he only had mind powers, simply said he could not, but he could alter his mind to believe that he was warm.
Quinlan quickly refused this proposal, warning the old man to stay out of his head.
Soon, they arrived.
Eshmur stopped in front of a heavy iron door. Its frame was thick, scarred and reinforced with rusted steel bands. A spooked wheel hung in its center, in place of a handle.
He extended his hand, and magical runes suddenly burned out of the iron of the wheel, causing it to spin continuously until the door declared itself unlocked with a loud clang.
Quinlan stepped back once again, still taken aback by all these magical displays.
The door slowly pushed itself open, creaking ominously on its hinges till it revealed the room after it.
There was dull red light coming from within, however, the presence of dust and darkness made it difficult to see anything.
Eshmur returned his hand into his sleeves, resuming his normal posture. But then, a purple colored rune, shaped like a flat circular vault, appeared by his side.
The rune spun, and when it stopped, a glowing object was sucked out of it.
It was a lantern.
Quinlan stared in shock as the rune disintegrated into amethyst dust, while the lantern it had manifested lightened the path ahead.
"How did you do that?" he rasped.
Eshmur turned back to look at him. "Do you also fear the dark?"
Quinlan felt insulted. "Also?"
Eshmur said nothing to that, returning his gaze forward as the lantern hovered at his shoulder. "We are here at last. Rather than troubling yourself with questions, step inside and get the answers to all of them."
He stepped into the dark room as the lantern illuminated his way. Quinlan hesitated, remaining still and speechless, not knowing what to make of all this yet.
Somehow, he still knew that whatever happened today was going to be a life changing experience.
For better or worse.
He shot his head left and right, then looked behind him. Realizing he was completely surrounded by darkness, Quinlan's breath caught and his eyes widened at the faint glow of Eshmur's lantern inside the room.
"Old man! Hey. Wait up!"
Hurriedly, he stumbled inside the room, and in the same instant, a sudden warmness embraced him, chasing the tunnel's chill from his skin.
Quinlan narrowed his eyes. "Why is it so warm in here?" he asked Eshmur, who was a distance away, admiring an old table.
"Was it not warmth you sought after a moment ago?"
Quinlan gazed around the ceiling. "Yeah, but—"
What the hell was this place?
The chamber reeked of old iron and bitter herbs, rust and chemicals, dust and time.
Eshmur's lantern brightened, and Quinlan could now fully see what appeared to be a forgotten laboratory, untouched for over a decade.
There were consoles and metallic tables covered with dust. One of these consoles had an iron belly glowing white-hot, while a dozen glass tubes bubbled with alchemical brews. Snaking along the walls were copper piping, with spiderwebs coated with more dust.
Eshmur's footsteps echoed behind Quinlan thoughts, as his focus was fully engrossed by this room. He'd never seen so many machines, so many strange objects.
However, what caught his eye most was at the very center of the room.
It was a massive glass cylinder, twice his height, with a base and a top made with metal. Floating at the center of this glass cylinder was one small, crimson cube.
As soon as his eyes locked with the cube, Quinlan was instantly enthralled. His feet began to move on their own, pulling him closer to the cylinder, while his eyes glistened with the crimson reflection of the cube.
Eshmur watched.
"What… is that?" Quinlan muttered.
Eshur joined him by the cylinder. "What do you think?"
Quinlan continued to stare, swallowing once but never looking away. "What did you call it before? A soul? Is this the soul of a beast?"
"The soul of a beast is correct. However, the appropriate term is Node, the crystalized manifestation of a beast's power alongside its essence."
"Yours was a giant turtle," Quinlan recalled. "What is this one?"
Eshmur glanced shortly at him, his lavender pupils studying Quinlan's face before responding with a solemn voice. "A Dragon."
Quinlan jerked backwards, then snapped his head at the learned man. "What do you take me for, old man? A fool?"
Eshmur frowned. "You doubt?"
"I might be from the Dreglands but don't think I'm completely ignorant. Dragons aren't real. No one has ever seen one. No one can prove that they exist."
Eshmur returned his gaze to the Node. "Well, your own father would disagree with you."
Quinlan's eyes widened. "My father?"
"This chamber was your father's secret lab. Everything you see here are his creations and his tools for creating. But the apex of his inventions was this cube of scarlet fire. The Dragon Node."
"You knew my father?" Quinlan asked, caring only about that.
"There is not a person I do not know. In the case of your father, I shared a personal relationship with compared to the millions that I merely know by foresight."
"What does that mean?"
"It means I was a close friend of your father, and before he died, he informed me about this place and the secrets within it."
Quinlan's steel face slowly began to tear, his brows creasing, lips twitching. He hadn't met many people who knew his father closely, and so he had only one question to ask.
"What... was he like?"
Eshmur gazed at him unexpressively, saying nothing in reply, but evidently judging in silence.
"Come on, tell me! What was my father like?" Quinlan demanded.
Eshmur shook his head. "You are ready now more than ever, but you still allow yourself a victim to your emotions." He faced the Node. "If you seek to be closer to your father. Whether you despise or adulate him, this Node here is your chance."
Frustration still on his face, Quinlan looked at the Node. "What are you saying?"
"Turmond designed that Node for you," Eshmur replied. "He embedded it with a plexus. One that can only be awakened by his blood."
His eyes found Quinlan again. "Or the blood of his kin."
Quinlan's throat tightened.
"All the beasts that have roamed our world, none is as powerful as the dragon," Eshmur said with certainty. "Believe me, son of Drayton, they are real. And inside this Node is the soul of the first one ever discovered. Which makes this the most powerful Node of all."
He stepped closer, his gaze piercing. "Imagine what its wielder could become."
A chill ran through Quinlan's body.
Eshmur turned around, face as flat as it had always been. "Ultimately, you have no choice. The plexus avoids the Node from being absorbed by anyone but you. Unless of course, you decide against your true destiny, abandon the Node and return to the Forsaken lands. I will not object."
Quinlan's face hardened. "You want me to become a Hunter."
Eshmur sighed. "What I want matters not in the grand scheme of things. I am only a messenger."
"But you've waited this long to deliver your message?" Quinlan faced him. "Why?"
Eshmur gave no reply at first, his face heavy and silent. Then, his lips moved. "Have you ever seen an alignment of stars? How impeccable it is. A product of design, not randomness... not chaos. If one star moved sooner than it should've, or later, then the beauty crumbles. The timing has to be perfect."
He turned to Quinlan, who was gazing at him with steel concentration. "Timing shapes fate as much as choice. A seed planted in winter will wither, but in spring, it takes root and grows. A message given too soon is ignored, too late and it is useless. Now, Quinlan, is when you are meant to hear it."
His lantern began to produce smaller motes of light that hovered around Quinlan.
"For you, the stars have aligned."
Eshmur turned to leave, his lantern followed after him while the tiny ones above Quinlan kept the room illuminated.
"Old man," Quinlan stopped him.
Eshmur paused by the door, half in shadow.
"If you see me again, can you tell me about my father then?"
Eshmur didn't turn. "I always see you, son of Drayton. When the day you see me ever comes, then I will answer your questions."
After that, he strode away, his footsteps fading in the distance as Quinlan stared at the Dragon Node.