"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
RAJAH - THE SEA WITCH’S DAUGHTER
—
Upon entering the cave, there was a great crash—it made the very foundation of the underwater matter shudder. The giant shark slammed into the entrance, over and over, trying to wedge itself in deeper. Serrated teeth gnashing together. A great current pressed forward, sending the Baltians surging into tunnels that opened up at the back of the coral cave. Some were ground to nothing against the sharp walls.
A few of the others lived to suffer the sensation of their flesh peeling from their bones. The shark eventually retreated, realizing it could not fit further than the width of its body would allow.
Only you and Rajah were left alive.
She told you that you both needed to get to her mother—”Nereus has betrayed me.”
And so you both set off down the tunnels, the paths illuminated by glowing plankton.
Water still murky with blood.
Blood?
Time rippled around you.
The bloody water was mist, and you had your legs back, and not fins, and you were screaming—everyone was screaming.
And then it was gone, and it was just you, and Rajah, and the soft, blue light of the cave.
You grow as close as you want during your travels, but the nearer you draw to the Sea Witch’s cavern under the mountain, the faster time seemed to move.
You meet the Sea Witch. A giant octopus-like creature, as black as sin, with the head of a horse. Despite her terrifying appearance, she greeted you warmly. If only because Rajah decided you were one of them now.
You were there when the guards bring in the decapitated head of Rajah’s brother—his milky white eyes staring forever at nothing.
You were there when Nereus and his forces attacked the kingdom while everyone slept—although, you didn’t know what was happening. Not at first. Time slowed to what felt like a crawl. You had spent months living among the Baltians, the memories like vivid dreams you’d been forced to watch. But you had grown fond of them. You almost didn’t want to go back to… back to… where had you come from, again?
A scream echoed from one of the tunnels, followed by another, and then another.
The Baltians woke in a panic, they rushed to meet the enemies invading their tunnels—and were immediately cut down by the wolf-hybrids that had dragged you into the fissures. They, too, had traded their lower half for fins and scales.
Rajah was screaming now.
You rushed to save her—only to come across Nereus slamming her head with his hooves against the coral, over and over again, until the screaming stopped.
And then time itself stopped around you.
Everything stopped moving—the demons, the Baltians that were being attacked.
Nereus.
A shadow stepped from his body, taller than them—it walked on two legs through the water as if it were on dry land. It held out its clawed hand and a sceptre appeared into the air with a woosh of black smoke. A crown raised from its skull.
It was the titan from before—only scaled down to size.
“Time is a thief,” it chuckled, reaching out with its free hand to place its palm to your cheek.
The ground dropped out from beneath you.
The sun was blinding, though it was starting to set—it would be the only witness to your demise. At least, until your body, operating solely on instinct you didn’t know it possessed (and perhaps it didn’t before), snapped open your new wings and you soared upward toward the clouds.
There was a loud roar from behind you—and a stream of fire billowed past, narrowly missing you. You could feel its heat, sweat pricked along your flesh.
“DRAGON!” A horse shouted from a nearby cloud.
“DRAGON!” Another voice answered.
And then a herd of Pegasi descended from the clouds, unleashing a flurry of strikes and elemental attacks against the scaly, black beast.
“Are you just going to flap around there?” A white stallion with dawn-colored wings snapped before he shot forward into the fray. “Help us!”
--
1. Describe wandering the tunnels with Rajah.
2. Describe building a bond with Rajah.
3. Describe her mother’s kingdom and what it was like meeting the Sea Witch.
4. Describe the massacre.
5. And, finally, end it with being plunged into a battle with a dragon—end on a cliffhanger.
—
NEREUS - THE SERPENT USURPER
—
With seconds to spare, you make it to the narrow cut through the reefs Nereus beckoned you toward. There was a ripple as a current surged past you in the shark’s wake, stirring your fins and mane.
The shark decided to avoid cutting itself on the sharp coral and instead circled back toward the cave.
“I cannot believe you followed me,” Nereus chuckled behind you. “What luck.”
And the world went dark.
You would catch bits and pieces, of course.
The pain would wake you between bouts of unconsciousness, though you did not know what sort of magic made you sleep. The wolf-demons were dragging you through the reefs, across the coral, not caring where your head landed nor how many cuts were inflicted upon your body. You could feel heat coming from… somewhere.
And then, as they climbed the underwater mountain, you grunted at the orange glow that was growing brighter and brighter—and turned your head away from the pulsing, fiery orb once they crested the reef. It wasn’t until you heard the sounds of another struggle that you forced your eyes open.
There was another Baltian—identical to Rajah—but broader, denser. Thicker.
The missing brother she had mentioned earlier.
Despite his begging, Nereus ordered the wolf-demons to rip his head from his poll. Rather than it filling the empty spaces between them murky-red, the blood was siphoned toward the glowing sphere. It was sucked into its center, and veins sprouted through the orange ball, so that it resembled the membrane of an egg.
“More,” a voice rasped, the sphere rippled.
Nereus stood nearest the orb. He closed his eyes, muttering an incantation you couldn’t quite make out. The wolves pulled you forward. One stepped in front, grabbing your head—while the others gripped you from behind. And they pulled. And pulled.
You could feel your head being ripped from your neck, feel flesh beginning to tear—
And then time stopped.
A shadow stepped from Nereus, taking the shape of the titan that had ordered the wolves drag you into the fissure. “Time is a thief,” it chuckled, reaching out with its free hand to place its palm to your cheek.
The ground dropped out from beneath you.
The sun was blinding, though it was starting to set—you were falling fast and it would be the only witness to your demise. At least, until your body, operating solely on instinct you didn’t know it possessed (and perhaps it didn’t before), snapped open your new wings and you soared upward toward the clouds.
There was a loud roar from behind you—and a stream of fire billowed past, narrowly missing you. You could feel its heat, sweat pricked along your flesh.
“DRAGON!” A horse shouted from a nearby cloud.
“DRAGON!” Another voice answered.
And then a herd of Pegasi descended from the clouds, unleashing a flurry of strikes and elemental attacks against the scaly, black beast.
“Are you just going to flap around there?” A white stallion with dawn-colored wings snapped before he shot forward into the fray. “Help us!”
--
1. Describe being dragged across the undertow.
2. Describe the orb and seeing the demons at the ritual.
3. Describe seeing Rajah’s brother beheaded.
4. Describe your character’s near-decapitation.
5. And, finally, end it with being plunged into a battle with a dragon—end on a cliffhanger.
—
THE MEGALODON
—
The shark was racing toward you, mouth open—and you chose to stand and face it. Despite your most valiant efforts, the beast swallowed you whole. In the darkness, you were swept down its gullet and slowly began to be digested. You could feel the acid eating away at your flesh. “Not yet,” a voice chuckled.
The shark’s innards dropped out from beneath you.
The sun was blinding, though it was starting to set—you were falling fast and it would be the only witness to your demise. At least, until your body, operating solely on instinct you didn’t know it possessed (and perhaps it didn’t before), snapped open your new wings and you soared upward toward the clouds.
There was a loud roar from behind you—and a stream of fire billowed past, narrowly missing you. You could feel its heat, sweat pricked along your flesh.
“DRAGON!” A horse shouted from a nearby cloud.
“DRAGON!” Another voice answered.
And then a herd of Pegasi descended from the clouds, unleashing a flurry of strikes and elemental attacks against the scaly, black beast.
“Are you just going to flap around there?” A white stallion with dawn-colored wings snapped before he shot forward into the fray. “Help us!”
--
1. Describe being eaten by the Megalodon.
2. Reminisce (Can be about anything).
3. Describe being inside its stomach and nearly being digested.
4. And, finally, end it with being plunged into a battle with a dragon—end on a cliffhanger.
—
YOU HAVE BEEN TELEPORTED BACK TO THE DARK AGES OF STRATOS!
FOR THIS ROUND
Your character is back in their own body and has wings, the wings can be in any style you like or wings they already had.
You have been granted a power for making it thus far to aid you on your quest (you will keep this power until the quest is over). You must choose: Fire, Wind, Water, or Earth Manipulation. This will be your element for the remainder of the quest, so choose carefully.
Posts must be a MINIMUM of 700 words.
The last three to respond will be eliminated.
The last three to respond need only respond with 400 words.
The deadline to respond is Wednesday, October 21st 11:59PM EST.
If you are eliminated from this round, your character will return to the dead and you will receive a genetic 4-space trait to be passed on to their descendant or another character they deem worthy. Whoever receives the trait will suffer from severe sunniphobia (fear of the sun) and visions from the contestant's time in the quest for four starter posts. It’s up to the player to determine if they want to keep the phobia or not.
--
RESULTS FROM ROUND TWO: KARS - Please post an update to claim your genetic 3-space trait after you decide which character you would like to grant it to. ALAUNUS - Please post an update to claim your genetic 3-space trait after you decide which character you would like to grant it to. ELENTARI Eliminated/forfeiture of trait, since you didn’t respond. I’m sorry!
Characters that receive a trait from Round Two are plagued by the contestant’s memories of the quest via nightmares for exactly two starter posts. It’s up to the player to determine if they keep having the nightmares.
10-16-2026, 05:49 PM (This post was last modified: 10-16-2026, 06:02 PM by Undergrad.)
UNDERGRAD
Terror. A feeling Undergrad is not familiar with. It’s strange and painful, squirms and crawls in his thin belly, like a hatching snake unfurling from an egg cocoon. It wriggles, slimy and thrashing as it crawls from the pit of his stone stomach and edges up his chest, wrapping his heart and throat in a vice grip. Undergrad can feel the very edges of a blood-curdling scream beginning to rip open his lips, shredding his vocal cords with its horrifying rage.
He clings to the side of the ruby and onyx mare as the ancient shark batters itself against the cave; Undergrad stays at her side, wrapping his antlers around the cave walls in blinding thrashing. He wants to be away, the water, the cave, the low hum he begins to notice behind the sockets of his eyes…till he notices the wet thwack, thwack of the shark has fallen away to silence. The steady thrum of his heart replaces it.
The cave eventually opens, illuminated by glowing algae. A small galaxy of oceanic, star-like lights hangs in the cave waters, a kaleidoscope of curiosity, replacing the choking terror with whimsical curiosity. Undergrad’s dark eyes swirl and roam in wonder as his jaw slackens, and he feels the tug of wonder before being consumed. He was lucky to have been gifted the ability to release emotions. Undergrad grows curious about the mermare. ”Beautiful.” He whispers hoarsely, his mouth tasting coppery with the blood from his screams(or perhaps it is the blood in the water). He stays by Rajah as she navigates the maze of tunnels, Undergrad feeling himself engulfed by the amazement of the glowing world beneath the water and its serene beauty.
The soft blue glow radiates around Rajah's sensitive curves, and Undergrad lingers a moment too long, admiring her small but brave self. Heat rises in the impossible black of his cheeks, and for the first time, he's thankful he can't blush, but delighted to share a small conversation with his new companion until she mentions her mother. ”Meet your mother?” Raspily, the words strung together, Undergrad’s nervousness palpable. He swallows and draws his mouth shut, meeting Rajah’s gaze with a nervous grin. ”I’d love to.”
The dark stallion navigates the tunnels alongside Rajah. Following the pretty mare obediently, time seems to slip by more quickly, the pale blue glow growing and blurring as the pair finally reach the mermare’s mother. Black as he, with tentacles and massive bulk, Undergrad takes in the image of the monster mare. Would you call her that? The massive horse head is peering at the inky stallion. He catches his breath, honestly waiting to be eaten, a trap laid by the poison mare Rajah, but instead, her mother greets him in a voice like velvet honey. There is warmth, kindness, motherly and soft. Undergrad exhales, and tiny bubbles burst from his gills. He hears Rajah and her mother share a laugh as her mother exhales, ”Did you think this was a trick?” Another small chortle erupts as she gingerly places tentacles around them both, welcoming her daughter and her daughter’s new friend into her home.
There is peace for a time. The cave is a paradise, far from the screams of the slaughtered and the blood-blushed waters. Undergrad finds himself endearing toward Rajah and her mother, his memories of any life before the water fading. Generosity and warmth fill the safe confines of the cave until the sound of screams peels away the skin of his cocoon. The sound and smell of death are thick with merciless slaughter Undergrad awakes, thinking they are echoes of a nightmare, until he hears Rajah…RAJAH!! The black merstallion is immediately up, racing to her cries, her desperate screams. He can feel the surge of his heart rate blocking out everything but HER screams. ”No, no, no, no, no,n-” Nerus delivers the final blow, and Rajah falls silent, her beautiful eyes rolling to meet Undergrad’s gaze, pausing a moment as the light falls away from them and they roll upward as a pair of mirror pearls…and now Undergrad can hear someone else screaming over the deafening heartbeat… his own.
Undergrad feels himself splitting the water, bloodlust in his eyes, a sickening yearning to feel the blue stallion's thin windpipe between his sharp teeth, and, with a simple flick of his tongue, tear it out of Nereus's throat. Perhaps he would keep the larynx; perhaps he would wear it as a bracelet, flaunting it and thrusting its existence into every conversation he ever had, to cement Nereus's demise…till Nereus froze, unblinking, as Undergrad slammed into him, teeth and blood marrying in the cave waters. Nereus doesn't move, his eyes widening for a moment before Undergrad removes his throat and clamps it between his teeth. The black merstallion feels his lips grin, a maniacal laugh bubbling in his throat, threatening to escape, but it dies down as the shadow falls over him.
The shadow makes him shiver; it conjures memories of fire, flame, and the fissures. Demons. The word coos softly in his brain as the drowned god emerges: two legs, sceptre, the crown. ”Wha-”, all he can croak before a blinding white light pierces his vision, and he unleashes a scream, Nereus's freed larynx floating upward and out in a nest of bubbles.
The sun dims enough for Undergrad to see feverish outlines; the air is hot and suffocating. ”gon…Dragon…” The word repeated like a talisman on his lips, but he does not yet realize it was his own mouth murmuring the word. He is weightless, drifting, sweat slicking his black skin as he fights to keep his vision. ” Are you just going to flap around? Help us!” Undergrad rips his eyes open; his own leathery black dragon-esque wings spread wide and flap methodically as the dragon's deep bellow vibrates against his thin ribs. It shatters his waking fever dream as he turns, eyes widening, and they crawl over the form of the largest dragon he's ever seen. It is eyeing him. Undergrad looks to the pale pegasus male with dawn-dipped wings before his gaze returns to the dark reptile's dripping hunger. Undergrad feels his heart rattle in the bone cage of his ribs, threatening to tear free, facing mindlessly what's next to come.
She does not look back. She swims desperately, frantically, her skin catching on the reef and bleeding, even still. But there is one surging rush of water and then stillness behind them. And still, she does not look back, as if doing so might beckon the creature, call it back to them. Her heart hammers out that same riotous beat, so loud in her ears that she barely hears what the Baltian says. The pieces are only just starting to slide into relief when, in the space of a breath, the whole world shrinks to black. And, as she slides into the abyss, the sound of the stallion’s laughter echoes.
Echoes, echoes, echoes.
Echoes when, feverish, she claws her way back from the depths of her dreamless sleep. (Could it be called sleep? Or was it some dark magic that kept her swimming just beneath the surface of consciousness?) Echoes as she slips back into it, head reeling, aware only of some tremendous pain, the source of which she cannot identify. There is no time to take stock of the limbs, the tail, the bones underneath. This strange underwater world is distant, blurry, someplace far removed from her. In this state, she is not even aware that she’s moving. Or, rather, being moved.
Glimpses of those creatures who’d sunk their teeth into her flesh, easy enough to mistake for nightmares. Though the pain is real. The blood that darkens the water on the rare occasions she manages to open her eyes is real. Occasionally she whimpers, the skin so easily torn, even in this new body.
(It would be no wonder at all if there was nothing left of her by the time they made it to their destination, parts of her left strewn on the reef, the rocks.)
It is the heat that rouses her, if only just barely. It is the closest she has come to awake, the way she turns her face wearily toward the source. The sun, she thinks. The sun pulled down out of the sky. What a strange thing that the depths of the water have not doused its flame. She almost smiles at the warmth of it cast across her face. Peace, she thinks, and hopes that, finally, she has died.
But still, in the darkest corners of her mind, that laughter echoes, an eerie, humorless sound. Until it is replaced by a different sound. A frantic, desperate, pleading. And she opens her eyes then, though she does not want to. She opens her eyes because it is the only option she has. Opens her eyes and turns her focus toward the sound. Fear surges through her before recognition does. Absolute terror grips her before she can even register what it is she’s looking at.
It is the creatures that take shape in the haze of her mind first. Not nightmares, then. Real. It had been them who’d dragged her through the reef, across the rocks. No, she thinks, no, it is a nightmare. This is all some terrible dream brought on by the fever that has ravaged her. She is sleeping someplace warm and dry, someplace far from here. She will wake soon enough and she will laugh, bewildered, at how real it had all felt.
But the pain pulsing through her is not a thing of dreams, she understands that. The horrific sound of flesh tearing, of blood gurgling, of bone separating, these are not some terrifying product of her own imagination. She chokes out some panicked sound, shrinking, like she might try to flee. But there is no place at all to go. She cannot move, immobilized by the sight of all that blood, the way it flows uniformly to the orb. The way the orb demands more.
“No,” she whimpers when those creatures set their sights on her again. Teeth dripping red, even in the water. There is no place to go. Again, she screams, a sound that comes clawing its way up from the very depths of her soul. Agonized, a bone-rattling sound. Again, they come for her. Again, the skin tears where they sink their teeth. And she bleeds and the pain of it is blinding. They push and they pull in some manic tug-of-war and she can feel the muscles straining, the tendons. She has never been so aware of her biology, her anatomy, the fibers beneath the surface of her skin. All of the things that hold her together. She screams until, again, her voice is taken from her. This time it is because her vocal chords tear beneath the pressure of their pulling.
And then. And then.
Everything goes absolutely still. The Baltians, the creatures, the orb. The pulling stops but she finds no relief in it. Her heart continues its thunderous chorus in her ears when the demon who had commanded the creatures steps out of the shadow. It, too, chuckles. And it, too, is a terrible, haunting sound. It reaches out a hand. It gently touches her cheek. It speaks but she cannot make out the words, not now. Because, suddenly, she is falling. Falling as she had down into the earth, dragged under by that great hand. Falling, falling, falling.
Idiot girl, she has time to hope again for death at the end of all of this.
She falls, not into water now, but into air. And what a strange sensation it is to fall up. Until she realizes she’s not falling at all, but flying, buoyed by great, feathered wings. Wings she had always longed for, as she had always thought it silly that she’d been born feathered but wingless. She had been foolish enough to hope for death as she’d fallen, but she is not stupid enough to think that she has survived.
Around her, a cacophony of voices shouting warnings of some great danger and she has no time at all to gain her bearings before that hot stream of fire comes blazing past her. She turns sharply in time to watch the pegasi descend, each of them armed with some magnificent magic, raining hellfire down onto the beast.
She is distantly aware of the barked command. Help! Help, you fool! But how could she possibly be of any help at all? She, who bleeds so freely. She, who has never been anything but a liability! She looks around for water, which further illustrates her foolishness. The water is long behind her now, somewhere down below. (Or up above? She has no way of knowing.) She is stupid, certainly, simple, but even she knows that water is fire’s greatest adversary.
“We need water!” she yells to no one in particular. And then, from someplace behind her, there emerges a stream. Weak at first and then stronger, faster. She turns to look for the source, certain she will find some pegasus behind her, summoning the water from some invisible source.
But there is no one behind her. There is only a cloud, its vapor being tugged from its heavy belly and turned into liquid before her eyes. Blinking, it occurs to her that she is the one commanding it. She understands that this is a terrifically bad sign and she turns her focus back to the melee just as the dragon wheels around in the sky, opens its great mouth, and flies right for her.
And that is true, Killdare thinks, accepting his fate beneath the tumult of the ocean. Beneath the pressing shadow and a waiting jaw. Surrender feels like falling, casting aside his carnal pride, throwing his glory to the sea until it is swallowed in salt, in brine that will last much longer than this body will.
And if he must fail, he will fail willingly.
There is dark once more, endless night swallowing him up, inhaling this creature of fin and fate. This creature he can barely recognize anymore, if not for the soul that sat at the helm, pressing an ember of courage where his heart should be held. A lantern that refused to dim even as he clenched his jaw against the weight of its persistence.
In a single bite, he was doomed. Gone were the rays of sun along the surface.
Gone was the blood of those that fell before him, yet the thrum of his heart remained, hammering against his ribcage like a wardrum.
All that remained were pieces now, crooked and spent against the gullet of a creature so large, he knew that time here would be shorter still.
Shorter than his reign, shorter than the path along a throat coated in saliva sticky wet. At least it's warm, he laughed to himself, finding that death was not without humor. Sliding down and down he went, a slithering centipede along a tunnel that pushed rancid air against his nose. Pungent with scents of befouled feasting, he winced as his footing dropped beneath him, or was it from above him? He could no longer tell, the world as he knew it would soon be gone. Replaced once more with the endless cycle of counting the tide.
Killdare was dropped into a pool of liquid, and if he could see its freakish yellow hue, he might balk at the sight.
Would there be a beach again? His hopes asked, finding comfort in the one thing that his mind took for granted. For years, for decades, perhaps longer still.
Of all the things he took for granted, he knew the beach was the least among them, drifting back to the pillars of pine. The thrum of a heart quaking beneath his hooves, the scent and sight of all he had known in his lifetime before. A hiss escaped his lips, he burned, his skin was no armored shell, it was flesh. He was to be consumed; he troubled himself to notice, tossing his head as though there was an escape from the pain. Needles of agony pierced his coat, the water would devour him, the wet would be his end.
“Malis,” he winced, invoking a name to calm his anxiety that would surely kill him. End this suffering sooner than he could dream, and yet he did dream anyways.
The beach found him, playing precariously along the lines of terrorizing torture, skin slipping away along his ankles, the burning was an endless flame. Hungry for more, he could not sate it, but his mind allowed him to recall their faces. Malis…the shadow of thought toyed, and she was there with him, safe on the beach, careful. His boys were not long after, he knew their faces too. Vercingetorix, Arkzenkiel, Hellbane, Mortal, Ivo, Roque, they entered the beach, or was it the forest? His thoughts troubled to steady the memory, another shout of pain from lungs he wished he no longer had.
His daughters laughed their way forward, Raelle, Victra, Milia, all grown, all perfect in the way that things are perfect. More still carefully emerged, their bodies hazed, smoky apparitions and yet he knew that they too belong right here. Fragments of those who would name him Father after his mortality met its end.
“I miss you,” the words nearly choked him, his body blistered relentlessly, and if he managed to speak it the sound was meant for pain.
It won.
So as death called him near, once more tolled the bell for his departure, the world collapsed from beneath him.
”Not yet,” a voice chuckled.
Not even death would release him.
”Dragon, dragon!” The shouts rang from a nearby cloud and though he spun uncontrolled for a time, his body answered more fiercely than his brain could comprehend.
“Dragon,” the alarm rang in the same panicked cry, over and over they shouted. Killdare felt the strength of what had become memory unfurl from against his back. Bronze wings spread themselves against the freefall he was ruined to suffer, scaled and furious along the glint of the sun. He knew these wings, and they’d know him the same. Pushing against the wind when he bid them, tucking close for speed until his descent became a soaring upturn.
The sun on his back was enough to tug his lips into the curve of a smile, warmth spreading along his features and building frenzied against his skin. Killdare burned, alight with heat until the temperature was more than a feeling—it was flame beneath his skin, inside his bones, restless where his body held it back.
Out, out it demanded.
And out it came, testing the air with flame, searing his skin without pain until rivulets of molten lava addressed his body like a habitat. Flowing bright and vicious, licking the length of his neck into a blazing glare. Hissing a dance at his hind where the length of his tail burned as true as any flare.
He was renewed, returned to the flame until it scorched his heart as a tender memento, as familiar as he’d ever known it. Killdare was eager for combat, setting course for the dragon that brought devastation to the skies.
Dragon! they cried.
There is no honor in dying for nothing.
Here is where he stands.
True to his nature and heedless to peril.
The sword in the darkness, the shield that guards the realms of men.
He makes it, just by the skin of his teeth, or rather, the Megalodon’s.
The very last to enter the cave, he hears the keen snap of the shark’s teeth as it makes another attempt to add him to the final course of its meal. He feels the piercing sensation of the sharp points as they catch the trailing ends of his fins, tearing them to thin ribbons that float and swirl prettily as he turns to stare at the cave’s entrance. A keening wail seems to shake the entire space, from the walls that surround him, down to his very bones. Oh, no, that’s just the aftermath of the shark launching itself at the cavern, still desperate to taste the prey it knows lies just beyond its reach.
As he wheels around to flee from the hungry, jagged spikes threatening to tear through the entrance, the current generated by the constant, repeated motions create a current that sweeps everyone up and buffets them along as easily as feathers caught in a breeze. He groans and bellows as he tumbles along, the coral ripping into his flesh as though the shark might have, adding more of his blood to the already darkened water that stings spitefully at his wounds with its salt. He is sure that at least one of his bones (maybe a rib?) has broken to some degree, though it is difficult to distinguish from the many other pains stabbing at his body.
But eventually, the shoving lessens and the quaking ceases, allowing him control of himself again. Either the shark has given up, or he’s been carried so far that they can no longer feel or hear its assault. Whatever the reason, though he is alone, he is grateful to have survived yet again, unlike the Baltians that suffered so greatly as they perished. He stares around at the devastation, the bits of flesh that remain of them, as a strange heartsickness for souls that he’d never even known and guilt for outliving them swells in his chest. He moans, quiet and dejected by everything that has led to this point in time.
A soft, sudden rustle turns him away from the butchery and Rajah emerges through the fluttering, glowing underwater plants that cloak the mouth of an adjoining tunnel; a spark of relief flares brightly for a moment, before a throb of condolence replaces it. He can only imagine what must plague her despite the obvious anger upon realizing she has been betrayed.
When she insists that they must return to her home, he does not protest. If the roles had been reversed, he would have wanted the exact same thing, whether it was for familial comfort or to merely deliver the news. As he falls into line behind her, the image of her wavers unnaturally and he stumbles… screams rent the air… confusion rises as he realizes his watery surroundings are gone and he has been returned to his natural form. Where…?
Before he can take in the new scene, it is gone and he is alone, the soft illumination of the ocean flora revealing the last of Rajah’s tail as it disappears into another passageway. He moves quickly to catch up to her.
The journey is difficult at first, tense with their converse, yet congruent emotions–her resentment and his regret over his survival and the Baltians’ demise. They spend a good chunk of time in silence, neither wanting to address the situation, so he studies their path rather intently. Having only spent his life on ground, the waterscape is quite fascinating with its colorful but unforgiving corals, and the small fauna that creep along the ocean floor or dart through the seemingly velvety seaweed.
But he can only look at the greenery for so long, so one day, he decides to ask about her home. The way she describes it can only be called breathtaking, with its luminescent plants and seemingly bucolic architecture contrary to its teeming with life, all sounding even grander than what currently surrounds them. He is not particularly surprised by its social structure, but he is slightly put off by its rigidity. He had avoided kingdom life in Beqanna for similar reasons, though that seems tame by comparison to what she tells.
She eventually warms, if only slightly, and he tells of his home and experiences. It is then that he realizes that she had felt familiar because she reminds him of Lucian, with the stubborn, mulishness that camouflages an ultimately kind and compassionate heart. When she tells of her interactions with her people, he sees how magnanimous she is in her gentility, just as he knows Lucian likely would have been in a similar position. He does not necessarily fall for Rajah (none could ever replace his great love), but he certainly comes to regard her as a friend by the end of their travels.
After that, time seems to pass rapidly and it is not long before they reach Baltia, and it is everything that she had described. When he meets her mother, he is initially taken aback by her appearance, which is far less horse-like than he could have even imagined. But, having heard so much of her, he is quick to hide his shock. Though she is largely stoic, he can sense the compassion and sadness when she learns of the lost souls. He is easily won over by this, but had he not been, the months he ends up spending with them surely would do so. Though the Baltians are initially wary, the transition goes smoothly, thanks to the bond forged with Rajah, and it is not long before he feels at home alongside them.
The night after the remains of Rajah’s brother are brought to the palace, he falls into a fitful slumber. Perhaps it is the trauma of the circumstances that brought him here, but something like more trouble is to come. And he’s not wrong.
The cries in his dreams come to life and startle him awake. He leaves his sleeping spot and, yet again, is met by scrambling bodies and sheer terror. Kingdom life is not something he had ever wanted, but he is surprisingly fond of it now, so a newly bred bravery spurs him to follow the Baltians to the source of the screams.
But that bravery is tested mightily when he realizes that the creatures that had dragged him into this entire mess are back, filling the halls with their murderous rage. He freezes almost immediately as they begin to slice and tear into those he has come to know, but he has no additional time to consider his next move as a familiar voice pierces the cacophony.
He pushes his way through the crowd and is there as quickly as he can be, but not soon enough. As they come into view, Andrew is horrified to see the mare’s head being dashed so violently against the sharp coral by the treacherous blue stallion. He calls out, agony vibrating every fiber of his being, as he seems to move in slow motion toward them. He cannot reach them before Rajah goes silent and still, eyes blinded to him as he falls to his knees at her side. He takes a moment to touch his nose to her bloodied cheek before looking up at Nereus with heated fury. But the stallion can only smirk before he is immobilized and the dark demon frees itself from his body.
Of course.
Andrew closes his eyes, any fear he might have had replaced with seething anger as the fiend taunts him. He recoils with disgust as the shadowy hand touches his skin.
But then, his stomach drops as the world falls away. His eyes snap open and he realizes he is no longer submersed in the ocean, but is rapidly plummeting toward dry land. He knows how he should react, but his body has grown accustomed to underwater life, so it fails him at first. However, his survival instinct kicks in and he realizes that there are four legs flailing wildly in vain attempts to stop his descent. Awareness spreads along his body, just as quickly as Rajah’s blood had pooled at his feet, and his wings unfurl just in time.
He does not recognize the physical heat as he climbs back into the clouds, believing it to be the madness of his acrimony as he continues to think of his companion, but then the shouts of ‘DRAGON’ reach his ears. He wheels in the air, a natural movement, to see the onyx beast there, spewing deadly fire from its rancid mouth. This time, he experiences only mild dread at the sight of yet another nightmare unraveling itself before him; perhaps he is just accustomed to it now, or perhaps it is the ire that continues swirling within him.
Next thing he knows, a new voice is chiding him for remaining still and he snarls uncharacteristically as the sunrise-winged stallion launches forward into the battle. His mind whirls with possibilities and something he can’t name swells his chest beyond anything he’s ever known. He moves slowly at first, then ever faster as the resistance seems to disappear, cleaving a clear path through the air as he chases after the stallion.
As easily as it supports his wings and propels him forward, the wind carries away every last trace of cowardice that was left in him.
The cave shudders around him, bodies sucked away in currents not unlike the way leaves tumble and twist in the wind. He knows he should be horrified by the violence, sickened by the gore of bodies rent open and smeared gelatinous against the ragged rocks, but all he can think of for a long, distended moment is that the reverberations sound like thunder. Summer, storms, hair curled with rain, a smile he is beginning to forget, and thunder. He blinks, stunned by the shard of the memory wedged suddenly into the soft of his chest, by the pain of it as the moment passes and the memory disintegrates.
He blinks again.
Again.
It takes too many heartbeats, maybe all the ones he has left, to realize that the screaming has stopped, the booms have quieted, and the shark has disappeared to find easier prey. Sundered’s burning red eyes fall on Rajah, and for a moment he wonders if she will be incapacitated by the brutality of what just happened. He would not hold it against her–there is so much blood in the water that he can taste it now, so many pieces of flesh that unfurl like pink seaweed and float between them. Even he feels nauseated by it. But Rajah must be made of stronger stone than him, because she wastes no time on sorrow or doubt, does not linger to say goodbye to what is already gone.
“Nereus is a snake.” It is all he offers as he falls in beside her, and it doesn’t escape his notice that he and Rajah are so similar. Maybe this is what makes it easy to stay with her, to fall into a story that isn’t his, into a world that only minutes ago he had dismissed as a dream. They are both carved from something cold and hard, both shaped around the burden of duty–and perhaps even more strangely, they are both the same in skin, too. Both swathed in red and dark, both stained by the black of their souls and the blood they’ve seen spilled. He wonders, but he does not ask. It is something he does not want to know.
The tunnels are unlike anything he’s ever seen, and what should be heart racingly unsettling is made beautiful by the age carved into the walls and the glow of plankton. There is still blood in the water, but it is fainter now, faint enough to pretend, if he doesn’t open his mouth to let it touch his tongue, that it is just shadow cast by the mystery of this vast underworld. He thinks–
The water is gone, Rajah is gone. It is just him and a mist so deep it blots out all else, and screaming, screaming.
He thrashes hard and suddenly he is back in the tunnels with Rajah turning her head to frown at him. He searches her face, her eyes, the curve of her lips, but there is nothing there to indicate she saw any of what he did. So he says nothing, just clenches his jaw and shakes his head at her. “It’s nothing.” And she must agree because without a word she turns her attention back to the tunnels etched in glowing plankton.
The screaming, the screaming.
It doesn’t happen again, and Sundered is all too glad to let it fade from his memory. Their travel together through the tunnels is uneventful, and the troubles they have are making sure they’re on the correct path to the kingdom of the Sea Witch. It is boring in a way that leaves an ache of longing in Sundered’s chest, a sense of almost-peace that he is so painfully willing to settle into as time races forward and leaves his past too far back for him to hold onto. He begins to forget why, but he knows that there is something about this, or maybe everything, that should be impossible. But Rajah is good company. She is quiet and clever, sharper than the edges of the coral they swim through. She makes him forget that something that is so important, a thing he had thought to be imprinted to his heart. A smile, a laugh, kind eyes, none of it Rajah. But by the time the tunnels open into a vast cavern, it has changed. Erosion in reverse, something kindred in the way Rajah’s clever eyes spark with fire when she catches him watching.
He is unafraid when he meets the Sea Witch, because though she is vast and imposing, she offers him the same acceptance that her daughter had. Again there is that sense of kindred, of sameness, of something that feels like the itch of belonging, but he is too time-swept to recognize the danger of it. And when the guards bring in the head of Rajah’s brother, he feels their pain, their fury, the jaggedness of their loss because he is of them, and he aches with them. After that, he and Rajah had found themselves together more, not intimate, but needing the reassurance of such sameness, of the way it felt to exist with someone who understood the brokenness of your spirit but did not try to fix it. Of being enough in whatever form that came as.
But they weren’t together when Nereus came.
They weren’t together when Rajah needed him most.
He wakes to the sound of violence and screaming–and he wonders why, why, why is there always screaming, all the time screaming–and it is reflex to launch himself from the pale luminous blue of the small side tunnel he must’ve fallen asleep in. It is disorienting with the haze of sleep filming his eyes and slowing his mind, to understand the battle he swims out into. For a moment–and it is too long, too much to take for himself when his people are dying–he is struck by the eerie beauty of the kingdom sprawled before him. It is a hub, a heart at the center of a maze of tunnels that lead off in every direction, some paths and some dead ends like the one he had been asleep in. There are underwater cliffs and intricate coral structures, and all of it glows in soft blues and silvers from the plankton that clings to the walls.
The only thing that feels out of place are the clouds of red, red, so much red that spills and swirls. It’s blood, he remembers, and it jolts him out of whatever stupor he had been dropped into. “Rajah! His voice is a boom, and he takes off through the water with his powerful tail moving behind him. “Damnit, Rajah. Answer me.” And she does, and she doesn’t, and he wishes she hadn’t because the sound of her pain filled screams are a knife buried in his chest and dragging back, back along the seam of his gut.
He is too late when he finds them. Too late to help her, but not too late for her burning, aching eyes to settle on his face as the light faded from them forever. The quiet is worse, somehow. It is worse and it consumes him, blinds him to the creatures he should have already recognized. Half wolf, half merefolk. Half wolf. It is important, it means something, it is a string plucked, discordant, ignored. “NEREUS.” He roars with fury and hatred, with all the anger pent up inside him from every life he has ever lived. But when he tries to throw himself forward at the blue stallion, everything stops.
Time.
Stands.
Still.
He watches the entity step out of Nereus’ body and his eyes burn with hellfire, with pain so vast he knows it will unmake him. There is a hand on his cheek, a warning, and he plummets. “It is.” He agrees as he falls away.
He falls forever, falls until his eyes open to brilliant light and his wings snap open. Falls until the shattered pieces of him come back together enough for him to realize that his world with Rajah, with their people, is gone. There is a chasm that opens up inside of him, a weight in his chest that threatens to drag him back down again until he falls far enough to find those glowing blue tunnels. He is so tired, so weary, and it feels like the weight of what he carries inside himself is enough to see him drown.
Fire sears the air beside him, and there is something familiar in the burn of it. It is enough, for the time being, to breathe a bit of the fire back into his soul. His wings fully unfurl, and they are dark and leathery as they beat the air on either side of him. They feel.. familiar. But that feeling comes with frustration, with the sense that there is something he’s forgetting, details mixing together. There is a roar, and he is transported back to the moment he woke in the water. To a shark, to bloodshed, to a man and a woman. He does not like the parallels here, does not want to face another beast. But he realizes, as the pegasi dive from the clouds in battle formation, launching attacks and counterattacks, that it is not the beast he fears. It is the men who even now yell and call to one another, to him, and demand help.
He knows what they do not, he has seen this story already. A beast, a kingdom, utter devastation. There is a sense of ominous doom that unfurls in his chest, a nauseating dread that this is just a mirror, a twin. But even he is swept away in the hand of time, moved onward to a point where all that matters is the battle and the dragon and the call to arms. Sundered roars and it is not unlike the sound of the dragon, so filled with fury and ache and righteous outrage. And there is fire in the sky, on his skin, engulfing all the air around him as he pulls in his wings and drops like a living, burning comet towards the shadow of the behemoth dragon just below.
sundered
i'd give anything to hear you say it one more time
