So much about these lands were unfamiliar. And when Oberon had seen the gaping hole that lead into the mysterious depths of the earth, of course he had followed it. Curiosity was not uncommon in this male, and as long as he could make his way back out (which Oberon was sure he would be able to), it would simply be a nice little adventure. Worth the small risk to his health, at the very least. Easily, Oberon padded into the depths, each pawstep careful. He felt out each step a little before placing his weight onto his paws, making sure that he didn't make a wrong step. It would not be unsafe as long as he was careful; as long as Oberon didn't make any stupid mistakes, he would be safe and that was what mattered. He'd be able to make it back to the world above in one piece - that was all that he was really worried about. There was no one waiting for him, no one worried about him. Which meant that he was offered a degree of freedom that few, if any, pack wolves had. There was something freeing about that, even if Oberon had come to miss companionship more than he would admit in the intervening seasons he had left his family. He wasn't sure how much time had passed in this dark realm when Oberon slowed to a stop, taking a breath as he examined the area around him. A large river sprawled before him, burbling and laughing to itself. It was strangely peaceful for such an underground realm. This was the kind of place in which Oberon belonged. ""

She had found it. Oh, gods, she had found it. And the moment it graced her senses she had begun to hunt it down so relentlessly that it could have fallen off the edge of the earth and she would have dove down with it. Heartstrings ached with the most mournful of chords, bleeding the most nostalgic of thundering blues that filled every last fiber of her quivering being. Paws scoured the earth and she blinked back tears she never thought she would cry again, hauling Mercury between her large shoulder blades, knowing he would be unable to keep up with the speed in which she charged. Celestial bodice barreled through every obstacle with brambles leaving angry scratches upon her legs. But Jupiter proved numb to this pain. For a very long time now, Jupiter had been just that--numb. So terribly numb. Nose had found his scent. Stagnant, but there--hardly recognizable but she had known that scent the moment she'd cleansed the slippery sac from his damp fur, stimulating his small, fragile body until he took his first shuddering breath in the terrible, lonely world she'd forced him into. She stumbled briefly as her throat tightened, fighting back the smallest of sobs. A deep breath quaked violently through her as she battled for her composure. How, in the midst of Ludicael and her hormone-induced paranoia and stupid-ass Kaios, had she let herself neglect her children? How had she possibly she prioritized that over t h e m? She had been so determined to protect them and offer them every bit of security she'd never enjoyed that she had deprived them of something much more valuable. Perhaps Marvel leaving truly had been her fault. They'd both promised to be parents for their children and though his departure scarred her heart horridly, she wielded the power all along. She could have done something. She could have been there for her children. Jupiter could have been more careful. Could have not fallen ill. Paw pad split open and trickled crimson as she arrived at the deluge, his scent--the one that had haunted her conscience for years now--breath-takingly strong. Aware of the danger, she slowed her pace drastically, drying some of the moisture in her eyes and allowing Mercury from his perch to pick his own path along the unstable ground. Head lowered and she worked her way carefully, following the exact pack her son had taken to the step. Attentions were so terribly focused that she didn't notice the river until she was nearly upon it. What she did notice was him. Her only son. He was here. It was dim, but she could make out the alabaster tones of his underside. Lower jaw quivered as lips parted but for the life of her she could not force out words. What could she say? "Oberon." Her voice did not quiver until the last syllable. Every last muscle in her body remained infinitely tense, aching with the stranded force there. "Hi." This was quiet, slipping out before she could stop it. So casual but thrumming with everything she couldn't say. What if he hated her? She could not blame him. She had lost everything. Her home, her pride, her rank, Ludicael, and had nearly lost Medusa. Jupiter wasn't prepared for this. She had never been prepared for any of it--not Ludicael, not Marvel. Not motherhood, not Medusa. Not murdering Kaios and not robbing her children of their only remaining parent. But for once, to the scarred firebird, t h a t was okay.

There was the sound of pawsteps in the cool caverns, and Oberon stirred, scenting the stale air in an attempt to determine who approached. The caves kept their secrets, however, and the stagnant, mildew-y air around him hid the scent of whoever approached him. Standing still, Oberon's gaze would seek out any sign of movement in the dimly light area. He would spy movement first, just the slightest of movements, and then he would be able to discern colors - was that orange, perhaps? Or was his wishful thinking getting the best of him? And then there would be words. His name, spilling from a familiar tongue. 'Oberon.' His name, nothing more, and yet, Oberon found himself in a war. His control slipped for a moment, and Oberon would take a step forward, on the verge of flinging himself at his mother. And then he stopped, muscles trembling as an internal war began. To run forward would be to lose control, something that Oberon had spent his life perfecting. And to stay put would be to deny himself his mother's touch. The two weighed almost equally inside his mind, and he was torn, more deeply torn than he truly understood how to explain. But it didn't take him long, merely a few seconds of inner turmoil, before Oberon was moving forward, at a slightly more stately pace than an all out rush. Still, he moved quickly, aiming to press his face into his mother's chest. As long as she didn't recoil or move away, Oberon would remain there, breathing in her scent as his maw opened, forming the first words that he had spoken since her appearance. "Mom." He breathed it with reverence. "I missed you." To admit that, for Oberon, was a strange thing. It was showing emotion, showing weakness, but did it matter? In these empty caverns, no one would see it except his mother - and she had always been one of the few exceptions. His mother and his sisters had always had the keys to his heart. He had left them, but now? Now he was back and he could not imagine leaving again. ""

A single moon-dipped paw would venture forward but then her son would freeze. In the dimness she could barely see his muscles trembling. She herself stalled with weighted energy, afraid that a single more step would shatter everything they've ever known. Their consciences battled viciously with their inner demons and their pride but then, finally the grown male would sweep forward. Jupiter would embrace him, drawing him close, allowing him to bury his face into her chest. She shifted, resting her neck upon his, clutching her long-lost child to her. He had been gone for so long and he had grown so big. Jupiter could hardly believe she had almost forgotten how old they were--it had seemed like only yesterday she'd prodded them gently to her teat and watched the three tiny wolves fall asleep on full bellies. In this moment, Jupiter felt ancient. So terribly old. "I'm so sorry," she whispered quietly to him--the words she never realized that she'd always wanted to say. She'd lost everything but now he was here, pressed against her, and Jupiter further realized the folly of having pushed away her children. Did they understand now? Or did they grudge her for it? For so long now, since her return, she'd wanted to do nothing but reclaim Ludicael and crush it, wiping it off of the face of the earth for none other to have--for it deserved none other than her. For she had brought it from the ashes and would see it fall again. But with Oberon here, there were other options. Instead of destroying their roots, there was the chance of rebuilding them. Of forging them anew and making up for everything she had robbed her blood of. Now, however, was not the time for her ambition or for her revenge. "I wanted so much for you and your sisters that I forgot the most important parts along the way," she murmured, a sigh heaving slowly through her body. "I was so scared that Kaios was going to come for you three that I risked everything. And now, even though I lived, I can't seem to find my way back to who I was before." She paused, pressing her cheek against his neck, listening to his heartbeat. She felt like she should say more. But her mind scrambled for something to say, something that would be enough to make up for the time she had spent so far away from her children. But there was nothing. Mercury stood by, quiet. He had practically been their uncle through his closeness with Jupiter but knew that this was an exchange for blood.

Oberon didn't dare move away from the woman, remaining close to her. Though his breath was muffled by her fur, he was still, taking deep inhalations of the scent that he had not tasted since he was a youngster. There was no reason to move, no reason to step away from the comfort of his mother's form. She was larger than him, he noted with a hint of surprise. But then, his mother had always been larger than life - it was fitting, then, that she was larger than he even now. It was only when Jupiter spoke that he stirred even a little, taking a small step back so that he could speak without inhaling her fur (as amusing as he was sure that would have been). "No, mom, I'm sorry." Sorry for leaving her and his sisters behind, sorry for abandoning them for seasons to take care of themselves. They had been capable of it, clearly, but that didn't mean that it was okay for him to leave. He had abandoned them, left them spinning in the dirt and abandoning them as cruelly as he had. There might not have been intentional malice in Oberon's decision to leave, but it had harmed his mother at least, clearly. And to think of Ana and Gira without him made Oberon's throat want to close up. He couldn't imagine leaving again - couldn't imagine what had gone through his head to make him decide that leaving in the first place had been all right. Closing his eyes for a moment, Oberon moved closer to his mother, pressing his shoulder against hers as he leaned against her comforting bulk. "You did the best you could." Oberon murmured, "And for that I will always be grateful." She had been his champion when he was younger, laying her life on the line to defend her children, and Oberon didn't understand how she could blame herself for doing everything that she could to keep them safe. He would have done the same, had he been in her paws. For his sisters, for his mother, Oberon would tear down the world. And that, in the end, had been what drew him back here. "You're my mother. You're Jupiter Illiadis, and you are the strongest wolf I've ever known." Oberon was certain in his assessment of this situation, though he wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't good at comforting others, and he wasn't even sure that that was what his mother needed, or even wanted. ""

Though his slight withdrawal from her warmth was necessary, she found herself stifling a protest, as if him taking a single step away would drop him straight into an abyss she could never recover him from. For the longest time, she had not thought of them. She had not thought of the small bodies she had nurtured for months on end and killed for. As if they had ceased to exist after her mind fell sick with guilt for killing Kaios--after her body had sunk to illness along with it. Now, though, she was strong. There was not guilt in the eradicator's mind any longer. Her killing had been right and she had removed from the earth a scourge. She had p u n i s h e d the evil that no one else had grown the balls to. While the rest had cowered, she had rose above. They'd clung so hypocritically to their morality, preached of how horrible his deeds were, but were so willing to turn the other cheek when action was called for. He drew close with his words and the world began to fall in on her. He gave her what she'd always needed, always needed ever since she was a small child with an identity complex searching for love through deception. The exact words had always been unknown to her but now that they were being said, she felt the strength in her legs waver and her chest tighten with threatened sobs. She resisted them--barely. All of her life she'd been searching, underneath the guise of ambition and justice, for some sort of recognition of her. Not her pelt, not her eyes, not her scars, but her, for who she was and what she'd done. For a long while, she merely sat, tense with the magnitude of his words for her. Then, softly, her form gradually eased into comfort, the extremity of her tear-bringing emotions stifled. "And you are Oberon Illiadis. And I am proud to call you my son." Hesitantly, she stepped back, audits tipped towards her skull. She turned, gently beckoning him to follow her back to the surface--back to the light. "I wanted to leave this place again," she spoke softly, paws picking carefully to follow the exact steps she had taken on the way down. "But now I'm not so sure." A pause. "They've all grown so spineless since I've left, Oberon. Nobody is willing to fight for what they believe in." Lip curled faintly, tone growing harsh. "They all think that peace will solve everything. That only the evil fight for what they believe in. Like the only good guys are these saints hiding behind their borders, preaching their peace while what they consider to be evil is foaming right past their scent marks and sometimes within." Her tail lashed with agitation though her gait remained steady, careful, and controlled. "I realized how much Ludicael used me." Her voice wavered slightly in the middle of her statement, own conscience barely coming to terms with the reality of it. "They used me. Put me on the front lines to fight so that they would have a home and a place to raise a family but were hardly ever willing to fight for themselves. And I was so blind to it." Posture slipped into lackluster disappointment, audits raising and angling back to capture anything he might have to say.

A rare smile crossed Oberon's features in the darkness as his mother addressed him, and the boy followed behind his mother as she began to make her way towards the world above. "Thank you," His voice was soft and muted, but there was gratitude in his solemn words. He had never been particularly insecure, but he could not deny that it was nice to hear his mother say those words, and that was why he allowed himself to let that emotion leak through his control. With his mother, he was more comfortable, willing to show his emotions, and Oberon understood that that was important. It was a sign of the love that they felt for each other - he was truly comfortable with her and she with him. Her words would distract him from his thoughts as Oberon padded carefully along, feeling out each step carefully. "Weak." He muttered, disgust tinging his tone. Fighting for what you believed in was not necessarily the only sign of strength, but to be unwilling to fight even in extreme circumstances? That was weakness in every sense of the word. Sometimes fighting was necessary, and wolves that did not understand that were weak. They were the wolves that let others stand on the front lines, sacrificing everything so that they could maintain their comfortable ways of life. They were the wolves that had sent his mother to war without stepping up with her. His mother had entered a death match with three young pups and they had not fought with her and that, in Oberon's eyes, was weakness. Oberon would have nuzzled his mother had they not been making their way along in these darkened caverns, but the boy instead contented himself with letting his voice rise in the darkness. "Let them rot." Oberon's voice was sharp as he spoke, "You would have torn down the sky for them if it posed a threat and their bravest would not have done even half of what you did." His mother was no saint, Oberon knew, but she was the best wolf that he knew. She was what he aspired to be - one day, he would protect her instead of the other way around. "Does Ludicael still stand?" Now his voice was softer, anger fading from his tone as his mind turned inwards. He knew nothing of the status of his birth pack, but from what he had seen of the lands, the packs had changed vastly in the year that he had been gone. ""