This is a fragment of a story from my fantasyverse, Aelia. Am planning to write and release stories out of order, and as they build up, so will the context. Criticism as always is appreciated!~

Art made by the wonderful  shanikafaceless

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Deep, sharp breaths, Esma inhaled and exhaled as her horse sped through the morning dew. It was not often that she had a call to action like this, and her heart beat faster and faster with excitement. Seeing the commander of her search party slow and swing his arms wide, she would lower down on her steed and kick down while pulling left.

The woods whipped past her, and soon her bag hummed. She was in position and would slow her steed while pulling out a golden device. While this would help the search, she felt it was redundant.

Esma had a strong connection with Thaumaturgic magics and could sense something was near. Though the device would hum softly, it did little in the means of narrowing a location immediately. Taking her steed on a wide angle, she would keep her hand on the device while her eyes darted through the trees.

It only occurred to her then that she couldn't hear the others. They'd all agreed to stay close to one another, but she had nobody to blame save for herself. Giving a frustrated sigh, the woman would stop by a jagged rock. Sliding off her steed, she checked her suit of plate mail. Taking her sword from her horse's pack, she would draw it while holding the device in her off hand.

"Stay here, Bril, I'll be back soon enough."

Patting the horse, she slung its lead over part of the rock. While she knew this wouldn't stop the beast from wandering off normally, the growing trust between them would see the horse stay.

The woman's boots crinkled freshly fallen leaves as she trekked into the autumn woods. With the familiar weight of her blade in hand, she would sense outward. Feeling a tingle of Essentia in the air. Copper-scented, wormy tendrils that even the device didn't seem to register.

Her mind trailed as she followed her instincts. Recalling her briefing, she was still awed by the Inquisitor who graced them with her company. Though following such a person's orders was more out of politeness than by given command, she still felt a sense of pride to finally be pushed into such a mission.

Esma's father held tales of grandeur from his time in the Inquisition. How he'd delved deep into treacherous dungeons, slain monsters and machines, beasts and relics from the forbidden time.

Even though Artifex, the mad machine, had been dead for centuries. His horrid machines still surfaced all across Aelia. They had to be hunted, dismantled, and destroyed, lest the mad machine god find purchase in the world once more. This was the duty of every Inquisitor, and it filled Esma with a dutiful calling that she now helped one.

It was not long before the device's humming would cease. Esma snapped herself back to reality, having been scanning the region while lost in thought. Steeling herself, she pocketed the device and held her blade ready. The Inquisitor, Agatha Vismond, had spoken of a runaway Thaumaturge. While he'd been slain, his dire creation had evaded their forces months ago.

"Why emerge now..."

The world felt as if it were on the brink of a civil war, and these forbidden magics still tore so much attention away from the true problems of the present. Esma almost detested the idea of chasing phantoms, but she knew better than to dismiss the workings of Artifex.

The mad machine had slain gods before, and if given the chance, it could do so again. It couldn't be a coincidence that the Dragon Queen began to weaken some years ago. Even as all the Inquisitors try as they may, it seems her form was deteriorating. Forcing this thought aside, Esma felt a pull of magic in her stomach.

It was nearly sickening, causing the woman to hesitate but hold her ground. Her gut roiled in protest, and for once, she was thankful to have skipped breakfast for training with Denier. Stepping onwards, each footfall seemed to cause another stir in the world surrounding her.

The Inquisitor seemed to take such a liking to Esma. Had claimed that she had gifts like no other. While other soldiers required devices and tools, Esma could feel her way through the workings of Essentia. A Thaumaturgic navigator, whatever that means.

A series of hushed, ghastly whispers echoed in her mind, almost indiscernible from the soft chirps of birds. Turning on her heel, she stared at a tree across the small break in the woods. Her eyes narrowed, and she stepped forward in silence. Keeping her sword bared as she closed the distance carefully.

The whispers grew to a rumbling roar, yet as Esma stepped even closer, an overwhelming presence pierced her mind. Suddenly, she felt herself very still, frozen in place by an entity that dwarfed even that of a dragon. The whispers were a chorus of violent but harmonic chanting. She tried to fight, feeling her device warm in her satchel, practically burning a hole in the leather.

Whatever entity that existed in the empty beyond would contemplate her briefly. It's invisible tendrils digging through her skin with garish precision. Yet just as soon as it had begun, the sensation faded.

Disinterest.

Whatever had just poured over her now held her in a strange disinterest, repugnant, almost disgust at first. Then, there was an awe-inspiring curiosity that threatened to topple the up-and-coming knight. Her knees buckled, but she held firm with a growl. Forcing a step forward, slowly circling the tree.

The disinterest would fade, boiling into a shocked curiosity before abruptly releasing her. Esma's heart thumped in her ears as she stared at a small metal glint in the grass. It was a machine, humanoid but small, with the head of a kobold. Esma held her sword pointed at the machine, expecting it to pounce at her.

Wrenching her fear aside, she held a calculated eye to the strange machine. Taking note that despite its shine, it was grown over by moss and plants. The machine seemed as if it hadn't moved in months, perhaps years? Bewildering the woman even further, she spotted damage to its chest. As if something had been torn out violently from a socket surrounded by metal and copper pipes.

Turning her eyes down, she gained a view of a strange cube in the machine's hand. Fragments of metal surrounded it, and the fingers of the machine appeared to have been damaged.

Had it torn its own heart out...?

What sort of Artifex construct would do such a thing?