Mist covered most of the world except for a circle around where Fever was hopping from stone to stone. This rock. That rock. This rock. That rock. Bounce bounce bounce. She never slipped. Not even once! It just went to show that she was perfect in everything that she did. Totally skilled.

After a bit of bouncing, the mist opened up on a nice little lake, fireflies bouncing around the dark edges and reflecting off of the water. Fever blinked her eye in return, the golden glow illuminating the girl's right eye. Mom said she was a firefly, after all. Fever bolted around the edge of the lake, bouncing into the air to try and catch the blinky bugs in her mouth. She never caught them, but it was a lot of fun trying.

"Fever Medacium"

Oh sweet little firefly... So naive, so innocent, so unaware... If only you'd looked longer in the water...

In the dark waters as still as a mirror and as deep as oblivion, Fever's reflection passed by as she went around the edges of the lake. And in the wake of that movement in the water's surface, a shimmer of movement followed her. A shadow prowled after her in the water, like it were moving behind a pane of glass to mimic her every move. So unaware was Fever in her state of play that she hadn't noticed as the fireflies around her began to go dark permanently, one by one, until just the one floating lazily in the air before her remained. And when it too went dark and failed to reignite its light, then the stillness of the lake was broken.

The surface of the lake exploded outward, a massive paw pulling itself out from underwater like a zombie exhuming itself from its own grave. A second paw followed soon after, thrusting from the dark lake to claw at the land as the form of a massive wolf pulled itself out of the lake, the water sluicing from his coat like a waterfall. Ragged breaths exhaled from heaving lungs as the brute took his first breaths outside of oblivion. Still drenched, his dense fur coat clung to the hulking body of taut muscle that rippled with every movement the brute made hoisting himself onto dry land—or as close to dry land could be in this liminal space. Red eyelids snapped open to reveal eyes as black as jet swirling around the space, panting maw open to reveal rows of sharp fangs. Moros had finally broken free of his prison of an afterlife.

Those abyssal eyes eventually settled on the form of the young pup, and Moros slowly turned his head toward her like a predator studying his prey. There was a flash of something primal and feral in his empty black eyes for a moment before control reappeared in his expression, his mouth slowly closing into an alluring smile—the same kind of smile Alastor so often wore. Rising to his paws, the brute slowly made his way over to the pup, still dripping wet, giant paws crunching the pebbles on the shore under his weight. When he came to within a few feet of Fever, the monstrous brute slowly lowered himself down to his belly, coming to eye level with the absurdly tiny child. He could have devoured her in a single bite if he wished. Ah, but she was no morsel to be consumed. She was his key to his cell; the whole reason he had gotten out of crushing oblivion. He still needed her...

"Thank you for freeing me, my grandchild," he spoke in deep, purring rumbles to the girl, extending a large paw across and holding his paw pads out for her to touch, his smile ever present on his muzzle. He had seen her before. The girl had the power of mediumship and had seen him in the waking world. But the barriers between the living and the dead were almost impenetrable, and she had been the only one ever to acknowledge his existence. Here, in the realm of dreams, Somnium became far easier to access. The barrier was weaker, and all it took was a little power of spirit and the presence of his own blood to break through. Now he could finally interact with her in all sorts of manners. "Little Fever... Such an amazing monster you are. So powerful for your size." Oh yeah, he was flattering her and sweet talking her. If he played nice with the pup, she'd be more inclined to come back and see him, and Moros could absolutely use that and her to his own means.

"Moros"

Fever, master of her dream domain, frowned when water splashed her. The eruption from the lake scared away the fireflies and that frown deepened. Grandpa Moros pulled himself from the water and shambled towards her. A normal child should have been pissing their furry pants, but Fever was far from normal. She wasn't afraid of anything. Not yet, anyway. Too young and fresh to have tasted fear. So, when the hulking brute lay on the stony earth before her and extended his paw, she went right up to him.

One tiny, nimble paw extended, smacking into the brutes giant pads like a low-five. Then she pointed at him, brow still furrowed. "You got me wet and you scared the fireflies away," she chastised in sweet, girly tones. Then, as though telling him so aloud made everything right, she walked past his paw and straight into his chest, curling up against him and facing outward as though his forelegs were the arms of some great, ruby throne. It was a dream so, in her mind, he was already dry.

Moros was her grandfather. He was family. It never crossed her mind that family might want to harm her. She curled up with Al and Manea, so why not with Moros. The little horned girl looked up at her great-grandfather's chin and made a request. "Tell me story."

"Fever Mendacium"

The pup approached him, no hesitation or fear on her little face. She came so close, all Moros would have to do was reach and he could pluck her right off the ground. It made the brute grin, a maw full of razor sharp fangs gleaming in the ethereal light of the dreamscape they were in. And then, just as she came up to his paw and Moros felt that primal urge to grasp her up, Fever... smacked his giant paw pads with her own tiny paw. That caught the giant brute well off guard, black eyes blinking wide with surprise as she chided him for getting her wet and scaring away her firefly friends. So surprised was Moros that all he could do was laugh. A deep, hearty, belly shaking laugh boomed from the brute almost like a Santa Claus. Oh, she was such a precious little thing! Unafraid of a literal monster invading the sanctity of her mind and her dreams.

His granddaughter came up and curled against his chest, snuggling in against her great-grandfather like he had never been absent in her life. And in many ways, he hadn't. Ever since the little girl had opened her special eyes, Moros had been freed of his prison by her gift, and since he could walk the mortal realm to her eyes only, he had been there with her, fascinated by the pup and her ability to see him. "Oh, precious little pup, I am very sorry," he rumbled an apology with saccharine sweet words, smiling down at her as if the child were his own. "Here, allow me to make things better." Fever wasn't the only one able to manipulate the dreamscape of Somnium. Raising a giant crimson paw, Moros poked at the air with a single digit, each time a firefly reappearing floating lazily in the air around them as he did. One by one he brought back the lightning bugs—and then with a broad sweep of his paw, a veritable light show of fireflies appeared around them, their thoraxes aglow like living stars.

With the atmosphere returned, Moros brought his paws back around to nestle the little girl closer into the thick fur of his chest, smiling down at her all the while. Yes, he was being sweet to her. She was his key to limitless freedom. She held power he needed. If he turned her against him, he could very well end up back in oblivion for all time—and he had so much work to do still. "There. All better." Fever asked for a story, so Moros would indulge her. Deep voice humming with pensive thought, Moros craned his massive head down to nuzzle the top of Fe's head, gently ruffling her feathery soft puppy fur. He'd forgotten how soft and squishy puppies were. "A story... Would you like to hear about where your family came from?" Moros shifted his weight to get a bit more comfortable and began to groom the pup's head and back with long, broad licks of his tongue, lavishing her with affections the way her own parents would.

"Long ago, we lived in a distant land of arid canyons and deep caves. Your grandsire Alastor, my son, myself, and your great-grandmother Rhea were a part of a pack. An empire of wolves so strong we had no contenders for leagues. It was a rough and brutal life, and it built us to be strong and resilient to not only survive, but to thrive. We were made strong in body, in mind, and in spirit." Looking up from Fever, Moros stared vacantly into empty air. Then, in the blink of an eye, the world around them had changed. Moros had recreated the valleys and canyons he had grown up in around them. The pair of wolves laid out on a sunbaked ledge of stone, a gentle summer wind whistling through the canyon. "This is Mirovis. Or what it was once upon a time. A mighty empire where your strength determined how great your bloodline was. I raised my family to be the strongest, the mightiest, the most cunning and deadly so that our line may flourish."

Moros glanced down from the ledge to the ground below. At the bottom of the ravine, a pair of wolves were fighting tooth and claw against one another in vicious bloodsport. A small crowd had gathered, cheering and jeering from the sidelines while the two wolves tore each other apart. One of those wolves was a lean yearling—a brute wearing an ebony coat covered in flame markings. "Your grandsire was my crowning achievement. Strong, fast, smart, brutal... Alastor was to be the pinnacle of my bloodline." Moros smirked proudly as his memory played out for Fever to watch. Alastor, fangs bared, barreled into his opponent, toppling him over and swiftly lunging in for a killing strike to the wolf's throat. His opponent cried out his surrender, but Alastor accepted none, and with a guttural choking scream, ripped the wolf's throat out in a spray of gore. The crowd cheered. Moros grinned. "This is the strength of our blood, little Fever. You are the latest in a long line of indomitable wolves. That is why you have such a special gift—the gift that gave me my freedom back."

"Moros"

Fever practically purred as Moros began to gently groom her fur. The girl loved being groomed. It was one of her favorite things. She liked keeping her coat clean and nice and shiny. Her poor mother was probably tired of brushing out her fur by now. The girl's mismatched gaze admired the plethora of fireflies that her grandfather had produced just for her. She felt so spoiled.

Moros began to weave his tale, telling the girl of her lineage and of the ways of her forebearers. As he spoke, the landscape changed to a sun dried canyon. This elicited a soft gasp from Fever as she looked around in wonder, her long tail swishing back and forth against her grandfather's chest.

Fever's attention was directed down below and the girl hung her paws over the edge without fear, watching with rapt attention as a very familiar looking wolf fought another. Moros spoke of his son, Alastor, being his crown achievement and Fever laughed softly. That was her papa down there! She continued to watch as Papa beat the other wolf into submission. Rather than let the wolf admit defeat, Papa tackled his opponent and ripped out its throat. A spray of dark red blood splashed upon the dry canyon floor and Fever gasped. What... was that?

Though a child, Fever's stomach had clenched hard upon seeing the life ripped from another. A thrill of excitement skipped down her spine like lightning. Never had she seen anything so beautiful, so enticing, so... absolutely breathtaking. She wanted to see more. Lots, lots more!

When the scene ended, Fever, eyes wide, backed up into her great grandfather's chest once more. She listened to his words about their bloodline being strong. The small girl looked up at him, a little frown playing on her lips. "I'm not strong," she admitted, then waved her paw towards the edge of the cliff. "Not like Papa." The girl deflated, sinking down to lay flat, her chin on the ground. Around them, the world darkened with her mood. "How am I supposed to be strong?"

"Speech"

In his realm, Moros was acutely aware of everything, even the metaphysical. He could feel little Fever's indulgent interest as she watched his story unfold before her very eyes, felt that shock and delight as they watched a much younger Alastor tear the life from his opponent. The sensation was mirrored inside himself, and with a barely perceptible little quiver, Moros smiled down at the pup. So she had inherited his delight in bloodlust too, eh? How interesting... The sinister bastard simply chuckled as they watched Alastor all but rip the head off of the deceased wolf before the story faded back into the swirling mist-like shadows of his purgatory. He was glad Fever had enjoyed her little family story time.

But as the pair were left back in the void, Moros felt a shift in Fever's emotions. She was no longer elated, but... sad? Dejected? Moros' wicked smile slipped into a tight-lipped frown as he peered down at his granddaughter with black eyes darkening with concern. Fever asserted that she wasn't strong and Moros could only give a bark of laughter. Oh, the sweet innocence of a child's mind, so black and white that she couldn't see her own power. "My dear sweet little Evee," he crooned in dulcet tones to the girl, shifting one massive paw to scoop up the little pup and pull her into his chest fluff in an embrace. "Strength and power are more than just being physically strong, like your Papa and myself. You have such tremendous power inside of you, a power no other wolf has—the power to manipulate death and the afterlife."

Drawing Fever back so he could peer down into those mismatched amber and black eyes of hers, Moros flashed the girl a wide, toothy smile and gestured to himself. "Before you were born, I was nothing. A forgotten ghost of a memory lost in empty nothingness. I could not move, I could not breathe, I couldn't even think. But then you were born and you found me. Look at me now! You made me real again, Fever. My precious little Fever. You gave me life again." Leaning his giant head down to nuzzle and lick tenderly at the girl's crown, Moros spoke softly again. "Your power saved me. Only you could have done that. And I am eternally grateful for that."

"Moros"