Daedalus staggered onto the unfamiliar shore, his movements unsteady as the sandy ground beneath him shifted with each water-logged step he took. His fur bristled against the onslaught of stimuli, ears twitching at the crashing waves that reverberated like thunder through his mind. His eyes, wide with a mix of fear and confusion, darted frantically from one sight to another, unable to fully comprehend the vastness of the open sky above. It looked like a gaping maw ready to swallow him whole.

He clutched the satchel of herbs tightly in his maw, the leather strap digging into his jaw as he sought reassurance in its familiar texture. His tongue traced the worn surface, a desperate attempt to ground himself in the present against the whirlwind of sensation that threatened to engulf him. Yet, even the herbs, with their soothing scent, offered little respite against the torrent of thoughts raging within him.

Memories flickered like ghostly apparitions -- snippets of captivity, of chains and darkness, of voices that whispered in the shadows. Screaming, blood, begging. His body tensed involuntarily, muscles coiling as if preparing for a phantom threat that lingered just beyond his perception. He couldn't remember how he had arrived here, to this new land that seemed both alien and strangely welcoming. Panic gripped his chest, constricting like a vice, as he struggled to piece together fragments of a long-shattered reality. So much time lost. And what he did remember, he'd rather not.

The hallucinations came unbidden, vivid and horrifying, swirling at the periphery of his vision like malevolent spirits. Faces twisted into grotesque masks, mouths contorted with words of malice and scorn that echoed in his ears. He whimpered softly, a pitiful sound escaping his throat, as he pressed a trembling paw to his temple, willing the onslaught to cease. Yet, the visions persisted, relentless in their assault on his fragile sanity. His entire life had been shaped, skewed, and tormented by those apparitions; and yet the wolf had no defense even still.

A conflicted emotion stirred within him -- a part of him was grateful for the release from captivity, yet another part questioned if he deserved this freedom. If it should have been granted to him at all. Was it not easier to hide, to close his eyes and cover his ears and hope the world was even a little less frightening? Guilt and fear gnawed at him, reminding him of the sins he believed he had committed, reinforced by voices he couldn't silence. His mentor's words echoed faintly in his mind, a distant whisper of encouragement from a conversation half-remembered. He held tightly to that memory.

The outside world loomed as daunting as the labyrinth of his own thoughts, uncertainties and dangers lurking in every shadow. Claws rising from the sand, inky and gooey as they rose towards him. His grip faltered on the satchel as he dropped it, fingers trembling as he fumbled with the clasp, finally extracting a small bundle of herbs and consuming them in a desperate bid for calm.

He closed his eyes, trying to find peace, willing the mixture to work its magic as it had only once before during the initial test. His only hope. The sea breeze whispered against his ears, gently murmuring that soothed his nerves, offering him an anchor to withstand the storm within. Slowly, the terrifying hallucinations began to recede, their grip loosening as the herbs took effect. Daedalus took a shaky breath, his chest rising and falling with newfound calm. Ah.

And then, a touch -- gentle and reassuring against his back, as if an ethereal hand had reached out to comfort him. A voice, soft and distant yet familiar, whispered words of encouragement, urging him forward. Daedalus nodded, the pupil of his seeing eye blown out. In the distance, the silhouette of a towering forest beckoned, its dark boughs a promise of sanctuary. With hesitant steps, Daedalus ventured forth, the satchel once again clutched tightly in his maw, guided by the near-transparent apparition of his mentor leading him onward into the unknown. One paw in front of the other. Follow Astrid like he always had.

""

Mariah needed to get away for a while. The recurring nightmare was still fresh in her mind, the haunting image of Moros' oppressive void still imprinted on her thoughts. Every time she closed her eyes, she felt the icy grip of fear clutching at her heart, the dread unyielding. It was maddening, the way it wormed its way into her consciousness even when she was awake. In the beginning, it hadn’t bothered her- not like this. But the more often they happened … well, Mariah was beginning to fear sleep itself. The mundane tasks of the day brought her little relief, but they served as a distraction – a bandage over the wound of her terror. She had always been an independent spirit, which is why she sought out solace now. Away from home. Away from her family. Away from Caedes- who she had already told of the horrors she faced … but couldn’t stand to burden him with a threat he could not help her face.

She hadn’t really paid attention to where she was going, but the air had become thicker and more humid. A forested wetland that was vaguely familiar to her. As she moved deeper into the gloom, the familiar scent of the mangroves wafted in the air, bringing with her a strange comfort. The trees stood tall and silent around her, their gnarled roots winding through the diminishing light like a labyrinth. The forest held an eerie stillness that was both unsettling and calming, a paradox that mirrored her turmoil. Overhead, the dense canopy blocked out most of the daylight, casting long shadows that danced around her. The silence was broken only by the distant calls of unseen creatures and the soft rustling of leaves in the gentle breeze.

She didn’t notice the obsidian brute before she was nearly on top of him- his coat blending into the shadows of the forest. His eyes, wide and scared. His form was ragged, unsteady- afraid. Instantly, she tensed, ready for a fight or flight. But as she looked at him, her silver gaze falling over his vulnerable figure. He clutched a satchel as if his life depended on it. “Hello?” She called out, curious as to what had this man in coiled knots.

"Mariah Mendacium"