The rain fell harder than before, washing the streets of the gutters into black rivers.
But the robed figure did not walk through the rain.
He walked beneath it.
His feet never touch the ground. Ink pooled beneath each step, pulling him forward like a shadow on the water, where he passed symbols ghosted into the air-- words in forgotten tongues, vanishing in a heartbeat later.
He entered a ruin beneath the gutters. Iron teeth barred the way, but the gates parted like breath before him.
Inside, candles burned with a violet flame. Dozen more robed figures stood there motionless, their hoods stitched with scriptures, their bodies in a writhing script.
No one spoke. Voices were reserved for the divine ones.
The one who had seen Ashen--who had spoken to him--knelt at the center of the chamber.
Before being decapitated after they have read his memories.
On the far wall, 7 massive murals, Half scraped by time, pulsated faintly, A figure on one of them stretched out his arms, Reaching towards a spiral of souls.
"The Crown Stirs" the figure whispered "The Vault has crowned another"
One of the elders came up.
"Oh, One of the Great Sin what shall we do?"
"Use the ink walkers to find me and the others,Seven vessels to control," the figure whispered.
"Your wish is my command," the scarred elder said.
Suddenly the place erupted into loud murmurs and talking.
SILENCE.
"All of you search for vessels in the Gutter or Migard Just don't get caught by the Watchers," said the Scarred Elder.
"Scram," said another elder.
Then all the Ink Walkers dispersed.
Far Above, In the Alley, Ashen Vale bled into the storm.