He experiences a terrifying moment, (or is it an age?) in which the light of reason is extinguished, only to awaken to the soft kiss of light as he is thoroughly scanned. A set of dulled golden eyes whose lids still feel heavy and strained from untold horrors slowly open. A chill wind whistles through the surrounding garden as a frighteningly complex system of binary switches provides him with an all-encompassing yet confining illusion of what life truly is. He has walked the tightrope across the gulf that exists between mortal and the divine. He had communed with... something. Not with words, but with images; each a reflection of a greater illumination. But before he can begin to reflect on the gravitas of what has been imparted to him, he becomes keenly aware of presences in the room and the splitting pain that came crashing down upon him. 

Xo'pil's vision swims in and out of focus as he begins to take stock of his surroundings. The room is filled with the hunched forms of several Q'ush as they quickly conversed in their native tongue, a rapport of hisses and clicks being exchanged between two while the others await a decision to be made, gawking at the masterpieces that adorned the room. If Xo was more familiar with their language, he would have found amusement in their confoundment as they deliberated on how best to begin transporting the pieces before them to Ec-Shavar's estate. Forked tongues slipped between thin lips as their eyes darted back and forth, reflected in them a cascading pattern of light. Its source was an aqueous amphora, its dimensions in an ever-shifting dance as crystalline rings orbited it upon a twisted axis. A curious claw was extended towards it, only to recoil in anguish as the vase's caustic components scalded its owner. 

"Like most objects of immeasurable beauty, it is often best to admire from a distance lest the cost of such beauty immediately become apparent."

The voice, or more over the approximation of a voice, brings with it all the quality of an orchestral production. It began with percussive intensity that melted away into melodious intonations. Xo rises from his recumbent position as the speaker makes himself visible. In the center of the room, behind the startled saurians, was a scintillating shaft of sanguine and across its surface rippled a wave of transmogrification. The soft beating of countless wings whispered to them as the pulsating form of Plangó Felho'Te-vesztø fully manifested itself. 

"I've already made all the necessary arrangements for transport. Outside are two kukull who will handle your duties. Leave us."

There were no objections from the crouched Q'ush as they vacated the room, attempting to console their injured companion. Their presence was, in turn, replaced by that of witless automata. Without instruction they immediately set themselves to the role of stevedore, albeit in a disconcerting fashion. One of the golems was composed of a viscous ferrofluid, Xo surmised, as he watched it envelop the floating amphora and encase it in a translucent orb within its bulking mass. It slithered on towards the next piece until it resembled a band of glowing jewels suspended in churning ink, until it oozed its way out into the courtyard, a magnetized patina left in its wake.

The hushed warble of Huilo's anti-grav thrusters distracted Xo'pil from his musings as he wondered if he could dismantle the golem and use it for a future sculpture. The dual-pyramidal drone had not ceased in monitoring his vitals and was expressing its concern over its conclusions via a series of chimes that went ignored for the time being. He stood and faltered, his legs giving out beneath his weight as he steadied himself with an outstretched arm. 

"I would tell you to rest but we've hardly the time for such pleasantry. You're the absolute talk of the city, little prince, or at least part of it. First you go off into the Veldt without so much as an upstream for the feeds only to disappear tor days.Then you show up looking like you've been through Ghot, clutching a cluster of eggs and surrounded by one of your toys, undoubtedly broken." 

His thoughts turned to Epit'li. The last memory he had of her was her voice beckoning him as he was in the thrall of something awful. He began to protest, seeking to voice his concern when Plangó continued. 

"You've been unconscious for hours while this one here dutifully fretted over you. We have little time before we must be elsewhere and I would prefer if you be as straightforward as possible. I will ask as simply as I can, what happened?"

And so Xo'pil began to recount what he remembered to his mentor, pausing often to collect his thoughts and find the words that would best describe what he had experienced. At times this proved to be a difficult task, yet he found a familiar sense of satisfaction in the process, as if it were a sudden surge of inspiration when brush met canvas. The fluttering mass was a polychromatic dreamscape as it listened to the Azot's tale, its thoughts only hinted at in the shifting hues. 

"You've given me much to ponder, little prince, and I am sure there is no need to say this, but for posterity's sake I will be blunt. Tell no one else of what happened. It'll be a simple affair to concoct another tale to explain your disappearance and sudden return. Zöld'nach has been privy to several events in the past few days that'll aid in our deception. Just yesterday a kukull suffered some sort of paroxysm and smashed our dear  Ulu'gol. Not into a paste, mind you, but close enough to crack that stubborn Alakast's carapace. Do be kind to him, tonight, I hear he's ever so embarrassed. Nothing new to show for his labors, armed only with what pieces he'd brought with him.

A minor tale of debauchery and artistic excess should suffice in obfuscating the truth of your journey. By tonight the sycophantic lot will be tittering behind your back while fawning over you. Try not to grimace."

With a kaleidoscopic burst of light and warmth, the beating wings were consumed in a whirling inferno and Plangó's presence was gone, replaced with the faint scent of smoldering incense. And just like that, Xo'pil was alone.

***

Moments later a similar eruption only inversed began to coalesce and through sheer tyranny of will Plangó Felho'Te-vesztø manifested himself halfway across the city, shadows dancing across the opulent furnishings of his quarters before coming to a halt as the effulgent entity fully corporealized. Stepping out from within the non-euclidean depths of diaphanous insects was a being made of starstuff. The bulk of his form was an atramentous void that absorbed the resplendent glory of the burning pillar that was but an aspect of his visage. Bands of swirling cosmic might streaked across the inky expanse and trickled across the surface of everything he interacted with. A tablet of volcanic stone was grasped in its hands and the motif engraved upon it was one of renewed importance: a beam erupting from an orb swept up in a maelstrom, the terrible likeness of abyssal horrors encircling the beam. 

And the soft sigh of satisfaction echoed slightly through out the chamber.

***

The torrential downpour that so regularly enveloped the Veldt and the lower expanses of Zöld'nach had diminished to a fine rain at this height, and as Xo'pil sat peering through the viewport of the shuttle he was on he mindlessly traced the fine bands of shalam that shone through the mists as rain met the heat of the caldera the heart of the city had been built around. They continued to ascend until all was engulfed in the somber miasma and for minutes they flew through darkness until cresting a ring of cragged peaks, to which they were suddenly met with several brightly lit landing pads, a number of shuttles already in the process of depositing their wealthy cargo. 
 
He was led across windswept runways, the occasional bead of rainwater crashing against the force-field emitted by the escort drone that directed him to a series of lifts that descended into the brutally majestic manse of Ec-Shavar. Xo'pil's eyes widened as he anxiously tugged at the cowering tips of his cloak's collar. It seemed more like a nightmarish vista than a home; illuminated spires which sought the starry heavens protruded from artificial pools of superheated liquids. Espaliers of fiber-optic vines strangled the hewn-stone walls of the Cizran-made valley, their sprawl interrupted intermittently by reflective lenses of magnificent size. And in the center of it all was a trio of domes, each adorned with an apocalyptic array of weaponry.

As he sought to take in as much detail as possible he was momentarily engulfed in darkness as the lift descended past the estate grounds and into an underground rail system. He groaned and, for the first time in what felt like too long, Xo felt like himself.

"What's next? Moving stairs?"

***

After an uneventful ride through drab tunnels, Xo'pil found himself at the center of festivities. Or at least at their threshold. He stood before two massive doors of masterfully carved shalam. Its glow was muted through a talented frosting technique that gave it a subdued sense of horror. Or was it the subject matter? As the mineral's bands of light pulsed along the door's surface, it illuminated a familiar scene of devastation; depicting a dread Konul descending, death in its wake. To its side stood the hulking form of a gilded arthropod, prismatic patterns glimmering across a massive golden claw. A highly modulated voice bubbled up from a set of mandibles as it requested his credentials. 

Xo involuntarily shivered as he provided it with his invitation; and with the slight hint of brine it was taken in a vestigial claw that appeared from its abdomen. This was followed by a mighty groan as the doors began to part and he heard his name being announced to the guests within. Gathering his wits, he stepped forward into the throng and was immediately lost to a myriad of sensations. 

Immediately past the doorway the space had been dedicated to the flesh-sculptors of Cizra Su-Lahn and their various apprentices. He wandered past masses of conjoined viscera, pulsating and throbbing with the rhythm of tribal drums, a fine marriage of the two cultures. He stopped and falsely admired a titanic set of lungs transformed into a series of bellows that produced horrid belches. Xo reached out and took notice of a passing tray, removing from it a mouthpiece with capsules protruding from either side, one filled with a swirling cloud of vermillion vapor while the other held an emerald mist. Turning a valve, the two chemicals were aerosolized and inhaled deeply into Xo's lungs. 

Waves of euphoria washed over him as he wound his way through the now vibrating multitude. It felt as if the fringes of his being were becoming more fluid, latching on and mixing with the ever-shifting sights and sounds of the enormous studio. He peered through the violent haze of all these beings, brought together into one room and let loose upon a phantasmagoric pilgrimage. He saw freshly injured Ulu'gol, hovering with the aid of several servitors as he was encircled by a troop of garishly garbed forest of admirers; half-heartedly answering questions and acknowledging compliments. As Xo nears he overhears a shrill voice ask for an explanation to a series of dyed meats that were suspended by gossamer webs and giggled at the unenthused response of "social integration". 

Before he could move closer and engage Ulu'gol in a bit of exasperated dialogue, the sound of trumpets filled the air as every head turned towards the source.

"Esteemed visitors and delegates, artists and patrons, your host, Governor Ec-Shavar!"