Not one among the present Journeymen took Emily's departure as anything less than a curt dismissal, but they made no reply or move to stop her.  The last thing that each of them saw before the white light overtook them was the fire that propelled Emily through the air, like a warning flare of bad things to come.

When the light faded, all of them -just like every other Traveler present in Monolith- felt slightly reinvigorated, but it was nothing compared to what the Workers experienced.  For Travelers, Blessings were like snacks: quite nice, but not completely necessary.  For Workers, Blessings were nothing less of the whole deal.  Feeling the surge of life energy bestowed upon them by Providence, the Workers felt their fatigue lift away, allowing them to renew their labor.  The legends of the Cypriots say that every immortal must regularly consume an elixir, and for the city of legends, the myths were remarkably accurate.  That holy radiance washing down from the peak of Monolith was what allowed them to live forever.

Though the Journeymen were touched by the warm, spiritual feeling common to all, they had business to attend to.  In their own speeds, they returned to their seats on the Sestet, and when their beacons blazed skyward, Marowit and Diver rejoined them.  Salvadore, somewhat bitter over Emily's parting words, took a few moments getting to the heart of the matter.  “It never ceases to impress me that so many outsiders can think so little of our holy spirit.  It is not until after they experience the miracle that they change their tune.  Emily is not as friendly as she makes herself appear.  Even if she did not have many more minds rattling about in her skull, I would not trust her.  When dealing with monsters one must take care that oneself does not also become a monster, and she has been dealing with demons, Keepers, and perhaps worse a long time.”  His tone became mocking.  “So, fellow Journeymen.  How best should we go about counting the days we have left?”

Nearly a half dozen voices attempted to answer, but Marowit's steely calm cut through them all.  “Your pride belittles the truth it masks, but it is nevertheless truth.  In the time after I left, before I rejoined this council, I warped across the country.”  The experience had left her far more fatigued than she would have let on, but her reconnaissance was too important for personal discomfort.  Marowit was, due in equal parts to her gift and her nature, one of the greatest assets of Monolith.  “I visited my usual sources, but I did not get very far before being resummoned.  There are whispers of strange things, new and dangerous things, all across the land.  In the west, villagers have described a gorgeous, icy demoness who freezes and consumes her victims.  A southern logging town is being harangued by creatures part ant and part man.  That is all I have for now.  There is a reasonable chance that the land is in greater jeopardy.”

“Please continue to scour the countryside for clues...but take it easier next time, Maro.  You need not exhaust yourself traveling such distances for information,” rumbled Sen-sen, who knew his sister's habits too well.  The broad-shouldered Traveler prided himself on his analysis, and with the enigmatic Marowit, the patterns of action she took were the least troublesome to see.  “I propose that we reroute twenty percent of our city's total labor to the construction of fortification and weapons for our own city.  Let us not divert from the divisions that supply the Cypriots their own arms, however.  Even if the risk is small for now, we must rise to meet the task.  We will not be the generation that allows Monolith to fall.”

Diver's perpetual smile greeted the proposal.  “Deal!  Nobody's gonna spoil these waters.”
Elvilika shrugged.  “Whatever,” she yawned.  “Workers gotta work on something.”
Kai gave a solemn nod.  “Perhaps thirty percent would be better.  We have little to lose.”
Sen-sen looked around, and received a few nods.  “Very well.”
Marowit gave a stiff nod.”
“Then it is agreed,” Salvadore said.  He stood up on his seat and stepped down into the dias.  Other council members did the same; this time, all had something to do.  “I will return to Salvation, where my presence is needed.  When you feel up to it, Marowit, resume your search.”  The black-eyed Traveler apparently took offense to his terminology—she vanished immediately.  This did not disturb Salvadore, who spoke jointly to Elvilika and Udo Koro Kai next.  “Winterkin, relay the labor decree through the amplifier and then start informing the other Travelers.  And Diver...it is time for you to head to the zenith and commune with the oracle of Providence.”

-=-=-

A ripple spread across the Flesh, as if something nasty and unpleasant had touched it and provoked a quiver of disgust.  The Progenitor, bent over a particularly engaged corpse, shifted its gaze to the maggots and beetles squirming among the heaps of tissue that littered the pit.  It watched, briefly toying with the notion of gathering them up for biomass, but eventually turned its soulless gaze on the vile thing that hunkered at the edge of its domain.  Bal'Tazor was bigger than the Progenitor, in all senses, and certainly repulsive.  And yet, when the avatar of the Flesh That Hates looked upon the bloated demon that had ventured to call it a child, its eyes held something akin to pity.  Did this wretch think itself superior to the Flesh?  Perhaps it was.  It would, however, be the work of moments to find out.  The Flesh that Hates would learn from Bal'Tazor, and thereby judge whether it was fit to join the plague or to feed it.  No meat was too toxic for the Flesh to adapt to consume it.

The two mouths of the Progenitor, both on its face and on its torso, began to move in sync.  They undulated in a fit of noises, a language not only foreign to to the region, but Cyprus itself.  [b][i]Come, so that I may know you.  Instant Mutation: Lash.[/i][/b]  The flesh of the Progenitor's arms instantly began to bubble and break.  Viscous liquids, in all arrays of colors, seeped from the reformatting flesh.  Noxious gases arose from the crackling pores, filling the rotten air with uncanny odors.  In seconds, the arms of the Progenitor metamorphosed from those of men to something entirely different.  They were like tentacles of some sea creature, but webbed with muscle and tissue scarring, able to expand and contract, and on their tips were talons.  Without a moment's further delay, the Progenitor swung its lashes at Bal'Trazor, seizing it and pulling it down into the pit.

The instant the demon touched the Flesh, the Flesh began to wither from the aura of pestilence the creature exuded.  Even over the span of a few seconds, however, it began to change.  With the Heart -the source of new mutations- so close, it was taking the disease cocktail in rather than resisting it and perishing.  More to the point, however, the Progenitor let go with its lashed, waiting for Bal'Trazor to make a move.  The learning had begun.