Mariah stared blankly at the stony beach before her, the crashing of the waves against the rocks an echoing reflection of the turmoil in her mind. She had come to the rock garden seeking solace, hoping the vast expanse of stone and sea would grant her the peace that sleep would not. But even here, in this place of primal beauty, the nightmare followed her like a shadow.

She could still feel Moros' claws raking through her flesh, peeling back skin and sinew to reveal the glittering crystals nested within her viscera. The pain had been unimaginable, a searing agony that transcended the boundary between dream and reality. And yet, it was the revelation of the crystals that haunted her most.

Mariah shuddered, curling into herself. She couldn't shake the feeling that the nightmare held some terrible truth, a glimpse into the twisted workings of her own body. The thought made her stomach churn and her head spin. Was she truly going mad? That was the most concerning part. That she believed that there could possibly be a shred of truth to what she had dreamed up.

She gazed out at the ocean, watching the sun's rays dance across the waves in a shimmering kaleidoscope of color. The beauty of it all seemed to mock her, a cruel reminder of the ugliness that festered in her mind. Mariah closed her eyes, willing the tears not to fall. She was so tired, so desperately in need of rest. But the fear of what awaited her in the realm of dreams kept her clinging to the waking world, even as exhaustion threatened to drag her under.

With a heavy sigh, Mariah turned away from the sea and began to pick her way across the rocky terrain, her steps unsteady and her vision blurred. She had no answers, no way to untangle the knot of fear and confusion that gripped her heart. All she could do was keep moving forward, one painful step at a time, and pray that somewhere along the way, she would find the strength to face whatever demons lurked within her, real or imagined.

"Mariah Mendacium"

It had been some time since the brute had been working on the solution Mariah desperately needed, and maybe he had found it. But approaching her with a maybe was something he hated, even if it was all he had to offer her.

Caedes watched her from a distance upon tracking her down, his emerald gaze narrowing as he took in the tension in her shoulders and the… unsteady way she picked her way across the rocky beach. Something was wrong. He could feel it. More than the dreams, the exhaustion, the fear. At least in the way her frame seemed to fold in on itself, her confidence all but gone. This, he hated the most. The way he could not shield her from the happenings within. His lips curled, fangs protruding as he thought of the perpetrator’s name.

Moros.

He approached her slowly, his steps graceful and quiet, giving her time to notice him. When he reached her side, he didn’t speak right away. Instead, his eyes traced the lines of her face, the sunken factor around her eyes. After a moment, he brushed his muzzle against her shoulder, a fleeting touch filled with meaning. His gaze searched hers, questioning, but not pushing. He didn’t need her to explain—he just needed her to know he was there to listen again.

"speaking"

Mariah started at the gentle touch, her haunted silver eyes flicking up to meet Caedes' concerned emerald gaze. For a moment, she felt a flicker of shame at being seen in such a vulnerable state. She was supposed to be strong, unshakable, a pillar of control and order. But now...now she felt as fragile as spun glass, ready to shatter at the slightest pressure. "I...I don't know what's happening to me.” she whispered, her voice hoarse and trembling.

The words spilled from her lips, unexpected and raw, like a floodgate burst open. Mariah had not intended to voice her turmoil, but in that moment of connection, the dam of her restraint cracked, unraveling the tightly woven threads of her composure. She felt exposed, but beneath the weight of her admission was a desperate yearning for understanding. “I fear I am going mad." she continued, drawing in a shuddering breath as if the air itself would strengthen her resolve. "The dreams... they feel too real. But then … ” A tremor coursed through her body as she recalled the coldness of his claws and the sickening revelation that accompanied them. “I dreamed I was being cut open … but my intestines aren’t normal … they are lined with crystals.” Mariah's voice faltered as shame coursed through her veins, seeping into the very marrow of her being. “How could it feel that real, and be absolutely insane?” She closed her eyes, feeling the weight of her words hang in the salty air like a storm cloud ready to burst. The inner conflict raged within her—the desire to be found sane battled against the damning evidence of her experiences, fragmented memories that refused to fade with the dying light of day.

"Mariah Mendacium"

Silver eyes appeared haunted, pain and stress she couldn’t hide showing in their depths. Her whispered words struck him hard—her hoarse, trembling voice showcasing torment he couldn't banish with words or strength alone. He listened in silence, allowing her to speak and let her burden be known, knowing that she so desperately needed to release her troubles.

When she spoke of her fear, her dreams, and the grotesqueness of their content, his expression remained steady. But within, anger stirred—not at her, never at her, but at the cruel malefactor that dared to touch her in this way. He wanted to destroy the very idea of Moros, to tear the specter from her mind and grant her the peace she so clearly craved.

As her voice faltered and her eyes closed, Caedes stepped closer. He lowered his skull until their foreheads touched, breathing in deeply as he searched for the words he needed to tell her. His tone was firm, yet gentle enough to comfort her—he hoped. “You are not mad, Mariah,” he said, his voice a low rumble, aimed to steady her mind and convey his support. “What you feel, what you have seen, is real if it is real to you. That is what matters. Neither you, nor I, or anyone else can diminish that fact.”

His gaze softened, his posture shifting slightly to make himself less imposing, he lowered his body slightly, not quite a kneel but close enough. He wanted her to feel safe, not scrutinized. “We may not have the answers,” he admitted after a pause, tone laced with sincerity. “But I have been working on something—a way to help with the dreams. It is… not a cure, and it may not even be the solution we need. But if you are comfortable with it, I would like to try a… trial run of sorts.”

He let the words linger, offering her the choice without pressure. It was a delicate line she walked, between clinging to her own strength and needing someone to lean on. His solution might not work; it might even fail spectacularly. But he hated seeing her like this, caught in the vice grip of something he could not fight for her. She may not appreciate being turned into an experiment either, but healing is what the brute knew; and if he could use it to his advantage he certainly would.

One thing bothered him irrevocably, however. Crystals? His jaw tightened imperceptibly. His mind turned over the implications, the imagery she described. To her, it was madness. To him, it was a piece of a puzzle he didn’t understand, but couldn’t ignore. Didn’t her father have crystal claws? Was that connected? Should he ask her to explain further? Was this all just another method of torture by Moros? And again, at the back of his mind—was Moros real, or imagined?

Caedes didn’t dwell on that. His father had taught him quite a bit about the mind, to argue fact or fiction was of no benefit to anyone. So, he would solve one problem at a time. Starting with her sleep.

"speaking"

Mariah felt a shiver run through her as Caedes' forehead pressed against hers, his presence was a grounding force amidst the turmoil of her feelings. His words, spoken with such conviction, they steadied her, and kept her as centered as she could possibly be. She wanted to believe him, to cling to the certainty in his voice and let it chase away the shadows of doubt that plagued her. But the fear still lingered, an insidious whisper in the back of her mind that she could not quite silence.

She drew in a deep, shuddering breath, letting the salty tang of the sea air fill her lungs. "I want to believe that," she murmured, her voice barely audible above the crashing waves. "But how can I trust my own mind when it shows me such horrors? When the line between dream and reality blurs until I can no longer tell where one ends and the other begins?" Mariah opened her eyes, meeting Caedes' gaze with a desperate intensity. "I feel like I'm unraveling, and I don't know how to stop it. These … nightmares. They're a violation of everything I am. Everything that I have become." She shook her head, frustration flaring as tears threatened to spill. “I’ve always been strong.” Strong-minded, rather. She had struggled with physical weakness the entirety of her existence. But at least she had always had her mind … and now even it betrayed her.

As the warmth of Caedes seeped into her troubled thoughts, Mariah struggled to fend off the encroaching darkness. “The crystals don’t exist. They can’t.” she whispered, almost to herself. “What if it’s all just a sick manifestation of something buried deep within me?” Her thoughts spiraled further into the abyss, haunted by remnants of what Moros had done.

A heavy silence enveloped them, broken only by the rhythmic crashing of waves against the rocky shore. “A trial run?” The phrase hung in the air, light and fragile, as if it might shatter at any moment. Mariah searched Caedes' face for understanding, for a sign that this was more than just a fleeting gesture of hope. “What do you have in mind?”

"Mariah Mendacium"

Caedes watched her closely, his expression calm and focused, like he were piecing together a puzzle while choosing his words in the same breath. And really, that's exactly what he was doing.

“It must feel like a betrayal,” he said plainly. Not one to shy away from hard truths, the brute continued in a low rumble. “Your mind is reacting to something it cannot process. You will be constantly on edge, paranoid, and if you continue on this path you will lose touch with reality. You are no less strong, or resilient. It is a different kind of battle, one that wears you down slowly, and that is why it feels so overwhelming.” He thought for a moment that he might offend her, but he was clinical in his thinking, trying to convey to her the facts. As he speaks, he traces her features, emeralds flickering distaste at her dark circles.

He shifted slightly, lowering his tone to emphasize his point. “Right now, what you need most is rest. Not deep, dream-filled sleep, but enough to let your body recover and your mind calm. That is where the trial comes in. I have been working with cannabis. It is not a perfect solution, but it might block the kind of sleep where dreams take hold. The dosage will take time to perfect, and perhaps it will be… enjoyable.” Frankly, he was saying don’t knock it till you try it.

Caedes let the sound of the waves fill the pause as he studied her reaction. “A temporary solution, hopefully. That it works first of all, and that it may be pleasurable.” he continued, his tone practical, an attempt to persuade. One massive paw moved to brush against her cheek, to stroke down her jaw and lift her chin. “If we can manage to get you a good night of sleep, and give your body and mind a rest—we might be able to solve the content of the dream together.”

His gaze softened, but his words remained direct. “The decision is yours. I am not going to push you into it. But I think it is worth trying. Even if it does not solve the problem, it might help you feel a little more in control.” Caedes straightened slightly, finishing up his speech with the faintest edge of resolve in his voice.

"speaking"