The silence was deafening. Vel only had enough wits about him to catch the scrying ball before it fell off the table. The sudden cessation of magic had caused it to wobble out of its stand. Vel held the scrying ball in his lower pair of arms, staring down at the dark sphere, his face straight.
What did he feel?
Shame, first and foremost. Shame that he let this happen.
And then it hit him full force. Twilight was in danger.
Twilight was in danger.
He set the crystal ball back down onto its stand a little more forcefully than was appropriate for such a delicate implement, and he put his hands on the table to collect himself.
The man's words, especially his offer to "come and learn," rang in his ear, and he closed his eyes to let it fester, let it grow. He sought an emotion that he hadn't felt in a long time, an emotion he'd told himself was too destructive for someone like him to hold. And then there it was.
Anger.
Straightening up from the desk, he turned to face the window. With a wave of his hand, there was the man's mansion, in full display. The gargoyles, while well made and extremely well concealed, were of no concern to Vel. It gave him a twinge of hatred, seeing fellow constructs guarding what was now a foe, and it'd make it all the more easier for him to dispel them.
He stared at the mansion for a bit longer, and more of the man's words echoed within him.
"Come enjoy our hospitality."
So there was more than one of him as well. Vel turned away from the window and walked to the elevator. He set his feet on it, and took a deep breath. His mind was too jumbled up, so he spoke the words.
"Seals below that guard the unseen, lift thyselves."
From beneath the platform, a gentle blue glow shone out before dimming. Vel let out a breath he didn't even know that he was holding. He'd never gone in here since he built the place. A literal burial of his past. He was afraid that what he'd take from there would change him forever, that he wouldn't be the Vel that she married for using the things beneath.
But for her, he was afraid, but not hesitant.
"Bottom floor."
He started to descend into a dark chamber, and when the lift stopped magical lights illuminated the room, his greatest secret.
The room looked like a tomb, with unforgiving stone making up most of its construction, a sharp contrast to the wood that made up most of his tower's interior.
Ahead of him was a brass coffin set into the wall, and the walls of the room around him were lined with constructs of all shapes and sizes. They were all of similar make and craftsmanship as Vel, but their forms varied. Constructs that ranged in size from Ogre-sized metal behemoths to even a clockwork dog, sitting eternally by the brass coffin. A dragon's skull, made of gears, glass, and steel, hung over the coffin.
As he walked towards the coffin, Vel's mind was silent, and he got close enough to even lay a hand on the coffin. He hated his master and creator. Hated him with every fiber of his being. He'd made a promise to himself that he'd never disturb the tomb beneath his tower for anything. To Vel, using anything that his master had left behind would be a betrayal to himself and his lifelong quest of mastery over the art of construct-making.
Using his magic, he unsealed the coffin, removing the locks that kept it closed and allowing the lid to swing open. Inside were the dessicated remains of his master. A grand figure in life, but now, a shrivelled corpse wearing a plain brown robe. The area around the body was lined with scroll cases and the corpse itself held a large tome bound in a copper case.
Vel paused for a few moments, but thoughts of Twilight scattered his doubt. He reached in and took a single scroll case. His eyes paused on the book, and he let out a sigh.
It was tempting to just take it, but he stayed his hand. Instead, he sealed the coffin once again, and looked down at the scroll he'd taken. A single spell.
Flesh to Brass.
The rest of his preparations went by in a blur. He'd resealed the tomb and gone to the top floor to don his wooden plating. There was a time where he was used to wearing it nearly every moment of the day. His time with Twilight had changed that, and now, it felt all the more foreign as he attached it to his frame.
And past that, he was ready. He put on his illusion so he'd look like his human self but with armor on, and went to the door. He opened it, and stepped out of a large tree on the edges of the mansion's territory, the gates to the grounds looming several hundred feet away.
All in all, it had been an hour or so since the scrying ball had gone dark, and he still wasn't sure if he was ready for what was about to happen.