[center]-=-=The Core=-=-[/center]

The pondering of Lily, though expansive, did not occupy much time.  As such, Panoptos –after approaching her- could only make one lazy revolution around her before she voiced her reply.  Huffing in acknowledgment, the Watcher reached out to mark Lily’s forehead, only to find her leaning back slightly to avoid his reach.  Narrowing his eyes, he leaned forward and again the demoness recoiled somewhat.  [color=50C878]”Hold still, you.”[/color]  Quickly he emblazoned the Council’s firebrand on her head before moving on.  If not for his aptitude for the sarcastic and disingenuous, Panoptos might have thought Mary overjoyed to step up and be branded.  He implanted his masters’ insignia upon her smooth, pale skin and then rose up.  By his count, everyone who remained but for the miserable dog now featured a mark.  [i]Good, good,[/i] he thought, sniggling, and he flew off toward the citadel.  With the Council’s audience over, the other Watchers scattered, most following the route taken by several of the Firebrands already toward their new base of operations.

[center]-=-=-[/center]

Still feeling overwhelmed by just about everything he could conceive of his current situation, Souta dimly followed the general movement toward the great stone fortress in the distance, but only stopped to realize where he was going when the cyborg accosted him.  [color=teal]”Hi, yeah,”[/color] he replied absently, rolling his shoulders to bring himself back to earth.  [color=teal]”Sounds about right.  If we’re working for the Charred Council now, we oughta get to know our workplace.”[/color]  Souta’s mind drifted back to his little office at the Regalia headquarters in Japan.  At first it had seemed alien, though not nearly to the degree as this place, but in time it seemed like more of a home than where he went to sleep; everything that challenged and intrigued him he did in those four walls.  Would he ever come to feel like a castle in the middle of a broiling lavascape could become the same?  There would be only one way to find out.

Of course, a few individuals beat him to the Charred Citadel.   First inside –or rather, above- was the sorcerer Akoni.  From his birds-eye view he could no doubt see a largely bare yet inhospitable series of roofs, all slanted and spiked, but there also lay a trio of tall towers just perfect for aerial landings.  Wrath, meanwhile, after entering the grand portcullis, found himself in an entry hall with ornate bas-reliefs but little else.   Many of the nearby chambers contained similarly little of note, though one did sport a distinct lack of floor, with a pool of lava replacing it.  His path through the nigh-labyrinthine passages took him through a fountain room, a large chamber replete with statues of all kinds, and finally a disused chamber filled with the remains of what may have been a trading post.  The power of the thing he sought drew him near, however, and he arrived at the World Tree chamber.

In the center of the great domed room, with gnarled roots blanketing the floor and twisted branches lining the ceiling, stood the Tree itself.  Without a leaf to its name it looked utterly dead at first glance, but in the hollows of its massive trunk lay clotted masses of arcane energy, dormant and unusable.  [color=50C878]”Looks like you and the tree were made for one another, savage.  You’re both sad and disused.”[/color]  Panoptos hovered a distance behind Wrath, his arms crossed.  [color=50C878]”Except for a few squatters, the Citadel has been neglected for a long time.  Suppose it’s time we kick everything into shape, though.  Follow me: it’s high time you made yourself useful.”[/color]

Panoptos lead the way through the Citadel to a large square chamber with many adjoining hallways.  At the room’s center hung a structure that appeared to be, for all intents and purposes, an enormous heart.  It hung, an inert sculpture of hollow glass filled with soot: dead.  The Watcher swept his hand toward it.  [color=50C878]”Behold!  The Molten Core.  Does the lights, the Tree, the forges, ovens, you name it.  It’s a little on the not-molten side right now, though, as I hope you can see.  Why don’t you warm it up?  Let out the Firebrand inside you and massage that heart into beating again.”[/color]

Meanwhile, Kosara’s intrepid dash through the hallways , which never failed to provide a challenge thanks to the sharp turns and winding paths, did deposit her in the library at last.  Alas, a disappointing sight lay before her: the library lay in tatters, with only a few books not even organized onto shelves.  In fact, most of the books lay in one pile in the rooms center, upon which lounged a [url=http://pre08.deviantart.net/6a3e/th/pre/f/2014/262/9/5/garuda_by_flowerzzxu-d7zpt2p.jpg]odd, beaked creature[/url] reading a book upside-down.  He noticed Kosara immediately, and set down his book to stare inquisitively.  “Oh, my my!” he crooned.  “A new visitor to the Charred Citadel!  I didn’t know we were having guests.  Oh wait…no, I lied.  I knew it all along, yes!”  He pushed himself up into a proper sitting position.  “My name is…Eeliot!  You aren’t going to kill me, are you?  No, no, us nice-looking folks are never evil.  Tell you what: help yourself to my books!  I’m not the King of Knowledge for nothing.  My only regret is that so little of my property has survived…” Holding a claw up over his eyes, Eeliot wept dramatically, but before long he peeked between his fingers.  Clearly he enjoyed having a guest to give him attention.

Slowly and methodically, Souta made his way through the Citadel interior.  Each room he took note of in a perhaps foolhardy attempt to memorize the layout, and it did not escape his notice that nearly everything lay in a state of disrepair.  He expected that the Watchers would get everything working soon enough, but even still the facilities seemed meager if meant to support a small army meant to save the world.  Of course, what did he know?  More than likely, the Council missions would be opportunities to gather more resources.  To his satisfaction, he found what appeared to be a smithy, and through one of its adjoining rooms he discovered an odd workshop.  The aesthetic of this chamber totally disregarded the precedent set by the hewn igneous stone of the rest of the Citadel; it was all metal, with unique furniture and tools that seemed more ritualistic than functional.  Nevertheless, the room gave him a good vibe, not unlike the promise of good things to come.  He decided to claim the empty room between the workshop and the smithy as his own.