Page 185 of Light Leech

We stopped before a violet veil of light. A burly woman stood outside with metallic adornments on her robe like armor. There was a slight bulge on her hip suggesting a weapon, but I did not dare to stare at it under her imposing glare. I supposed that even organizations like this could not forgo proper security. I glanced above the door and noted two small security cameras pointing at us like sentinels.

Our guide approached the guard and whispered to her with his hand hiding his mouth. She watched us with an unbreaking stare.

“Why is there a second one?” the guard said. Her voice was deep and threatening, even in monotone.

The guide whispered again.

The guard’s eyes flashed. Her gaze softened, but it was only a subtle change from disgruntled to annoyed. She tapped the veil and it faded to a pale blue.

We followed the guide inside.

A large ring of a table floated in the center of the room. Twenty people sat around it, all facing inward, towards the glass prism. A woman was speaking as we entered. Her face appeared as a hologram of violet light in the core of the prism, but her voice needed no amplification. An older man began to speak and his voice was amplified a touch louder to match her volume. He stopped speaking as he–along with all of the others–turned to see who had entered. Most glared at us as if we had committed a crime by interrupting them. A few smiled at our presence, especially the man who spoke to greet us.

“They’re finally here.” His voice was a still, a referent glee that paired well with his almost child-like grin. His skin was not as young and smooth as most of the others. He was an elderly man of Eastern Arabasian heritage with black hair and wrinkles that spoke of experience more than mere age.

“Yes,” Ralia said, “we are.” She walked forward after pointing out the obvious with no semblance of respect. She stopped before the table and stared at the face in the prism with arms akimbo. “What now?”

I followed her but stood a foot behind.

“Barrier, please,” the face said.

The guard left and the veil returned to its vibrant violet.

“Hihow.” Ralia snapped her fingers.

“Come,” the man said as he stepped out from the opposite side of the table and waved her forward.

She glanced at me. We obeyed.

“I’m sorry, what is this?” a disgruntled bald man said.

“Do not question Dear Leader Kim.” An aged woman said. I recalled that she was one of the few who did not act bothered by our entry.

“Mister Kim, I have a dig team waiting for me and don’t have time for your guests to–”

Mister-Dear-Leader Kim glared through the prism at the man who had spoken. “The archeological branch can wait for this. Nothing is more important.”

“Sir, the Southern Republic’s Yucatan temple anomaly is close to breaching. I find it hard to believe that anything can be more important than that right now.”

“The return of the Dokkaebi,” Mister Kim said.

Half of the table gasped or expressed some form of audible awe. Ralia stopped a foot before Mister Kim. Despite his aged face, his build was that of an Olympian with large stature and flushed-out musculature. Violet light lines ran down from small circles on his temples, down his neck, then met in the middle to run down the center of his chest at the point of his buttoned collar.

“Are you serious, sir?” a woman asked.

“But you are already here,” that same disgruntled man said.

Mister Kim faced him again through the prism. “Did you ever think that it might be possible that you are not all knowing?”

“What?”

“That all might not be revealed unto you?”

“The Constitution of Pure Knowledge contradicts that.”

Mister Kim grinned. “Who composed that document?”

“You did, sir. Or at least the part of you that is–”