They were free.
An hour ago they had been free from the influences of Chaos, had woken up with their mind clear for the first time in months, each breath feeling less restrictive. They'd accidentally bit their tongue in the struggle to break free, though, so they were spitting blood off to the side every so often.
Maximus slowly stood up and wrapped their arms around themselves, slowly parsing through muddled memories, their eyes closing for a moment. Anguish and shame flooded them as they remembered everything, their quills flattening and ears pinning.
Their failed trial, the meeting, Kethri's death, the attack on Draconua. All things caused by their inability to ignore a tiny little whisper nagging at the back of their head. Perhaps Vargas was right, perhaps they were weak.
They weren't. Corruption was more powerful than even they realized, but they still felt awful about it.
They broadcasted it through their thoughts as well, trying not to project their childish sort of terror at being left in a dark room, though it failed miserably and their feeling of being on the edge of tears was obvious.
Maximus looked down at themselves and winced at the scars across their body, clapping a hand over their mouth in horror. Gore scars slashed up and down their torso, shoulder, and arm, and as they looked back they saw dozens of pocked holes where bone had broken through and punctured. Flawless fur was marred with bald spots, marks of shame for their actions forever burned into their skin.
Khavur had come in at a leisurely pace at first, granted access by the Sentinel. It had sped up upon hearing the call of Maximus, the fear and uncertainty that beckoned a guardian's attention. First, it offered assurance:
Khavur had tried not to blaze Maximus's world and leave them for the wolves. Up until now, Khavur had succeeded, but...
@Maximus
Maximus looked to Khavur and stared, looking at Khavur in wonder. They hadn't properly looked upon their sibling in so long that the sight was a relief. Khavur meant safety.
The lamb rushed forward and into Khavur's front, burying themselves against their chest and holding back a sob, their tail pressed between their legs as their limbs quivered.
They felt so small in that moment, but it was a relief to be able to cry again and feel it properly. As tears ran down their cheeks they felt so happy that the emotion was theirs and not caused by corruption that they started crying harder.
Khavur embraced Maximus freely, wrapping protecting limbs around them like some kind of armored blanket. There was a spark of confusion at "It's so fuzzy." What, Khavur? Fuzzy? Elaboration evaporated the notion -- an armored blanket was nothing close to fuzzy. And as soon as the blame was laid, the old blanket became as comfortable as sandpaper.
Khavur squeezed Maximus just a little more, as if applied pressure would help the tears flow. Khavur had just gone on the equivalent of a rampage, and with all the training it had done, it needed rest before it could make attempts on Draconua's life.
So all this time, Maximus had been partially influenced by the Creator's magic?
...Hm.
@Maximus
Maximus struggled to retain the images and thoughts of what had happened. Like they'd said, it was all fuzzy, like a grainy television. They let it go after a while and just leaned into Khavur, ears down.
They sniffled and pressed into Khavur, whimpering,
All they had to do was keep their mouth shut and their head down. That was it. They knew it wasn't entirely them, but the corruption had still taken advantage of such weakness. If it wasn't there in the first place then this wouldn't have happened.