ORIGIN

Terror. Shaking, trembling terror.

All had again gone dark.

Where are the eyes? Where are the eyes? They will open any time--

The too-thin hyena staggered, trembling, from her hiding place, fur brushing along the stone. She was sticking to the wall, fear gripping her already-fractured mind. A tentative thought, from a mind driven fearful by her own terror, brushed through her consciousness. Confusion. Questioning. Reassurance. Seeking. Her mind translated it into coherent thought automatically, as it always did.

What do you fear, mother-sister?

The hyena broke into a slow, crooked loping run, a blind and lurching gallop that took her crashing into a pile of bones. She tumbled, falling, then scrambled up and ran harder, her own thoughts screaming back along the link to her familiar.

The eyes! THE EYES! They'll return, they'll take me, they'll take me--

I will find you there. Calm. Reassuring.

She careened through another bone pile, their clattering as they fell too loud, too loud--

They will hear me--and my sons are gone, daughter-bird, friend-feather, they are gone--no one can save me. I will be lost in the dark. I have foreseen it!

Memories flashed through her mind. A memory of visions. Of the caves again falling into shadows. She'd tried to warn others, once--long ago; she'd tried to tell them that it would all only repeat. That they would drown in darkness. She'd told the fox. But he had gone; and no one had come back.

Kerberos, gone.

Bones, gone.

The Bone King, vanished from his throne; he had never again sought her council.

The hyena, shaking with exertion, paused in the void-black and sniffed. The Hallowed Caller's thoughts came gentle, merely image and emotion, though again, Giggle's mind made words from them. Words that were not there.

This is not the same black, Mother-Sister. It is only darkness. And you are home.

There was a soft rustling of feathers in the darkness.

The bird landed gently on her back, talons entwined with her ragged, fungus-caked fur. Giggle sniffed, shaking, looking to and fro with blind eyes. Her nose picked up the odors: old bones, old, familiar fungus. She was at her bone pile, indeed. She was home.

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ROLL THE BONES

Ghanyarah had given up keeping track of days, weeks, cycles. Time was no longer of meaning to him. Nor were other Gembounds, or things. A purpose - to protect, to love - that was an old, flimsy wish left to rot when everyone left him. All that mattered was persisting.

He kept away from others in his home in Cetus. He tried not to leave, especially with the lights out in the cave, but every now and then he felt the need to venture out. Change his surroundings, if only to soothe his old, bored mind. It was especially dangerous in the dark. But today, he had come to Canis with something else in mind.

Both of his clawed front feet were aching with the sting of opened wounds. His long, curved nails were packed with dried blood, some of them splintered and broken, others simply worn down to dullness. It hurt to walk. But he walked anyway. He became numb to the feeling a long time ago. He needed to, anyway. So much carving into the bark of the trees surrounding his home had left his digits raw. Earlier, his last sharp nail cracked away, leaving a blunt edge that would no longer effectively scrape the bark away. He was in the middle of a portrait. An imagination. He had to find something else to draw with, lest he lose the image in his head and go mad.

What better place to find a new, sharp etching tool, than Canis? The room of bones.

The task was simple. All he needed to do was pluck a few old bones from the scattered piles. He would be in and out. If anybody took issue with it, he'd freeze them. It wasn't like he hadn't done it before.

Ghanyarah didn't even think to look for anyone as he entered the cave, immediately turning to a nearby mound and rifling through it. Bones tumbled away from the disturbance, clattering carelessly to the floor around him. He was hardly even paying attention, but his tongue flicked away, more out of habit now than concern. And found her scent. Old, like him. Hanging in the stagnant air.

The dragon paused and turned his head, leering through the darkness. He could see nothing. But he knew she was there.

Giggle lay trembling alongside her bone pile. She lifted her head, dark eyes wide, at the sound of something... rough, quiet, rasping in the distant darkness.

It's coming closer--

Her mind froze in panic, and an instant later she heard the telltale clatter of bones.

Monsters don't play with bones.

The rail-thin hyena slowly stood, listening in silence for a moment.

There is something here, mother-sister. Is it safe? Tentative questioning. Faint fear. Giggle cast her thoughts out along her bond--a touch of uncertainty, of calm.

I'm unsure yet, sister-daughter.

The hyena swivelled her big ears, listening for a few moments to the skitter of bones as someone clawed through a pile. Dark eyes stared into the shadows, vainly seeking some hint as to what was there.

See through us.

A startle ran through her. The fungus. It was all around; she was bound to it, as always, mind and thoughts caked with it just as much as her ragged coat was clotted with its spores and growths. She closed her dark eyes, standing shaking, taking a breath and focusing on calling her magic to her. To listening, seeing, to learning what lay in the darkness before her.

What came to her was not vision, not exactly: but the stir of air, the touch of the creature on the mycelia all around...

It's--large. Very large. It's long. It's a--... Something? But it isn't the eyes...

The hyena, gathering her courage, stepped closer with a hesitantly whispering step. She then spoke, her masculine voice croaking with long months of raspy disuse. She was shaking slightly with fear, but not of this creature before her, no--but of the darkness. Still, she was--curious. It had been a long time since she had met another living creature. One not her familiar, at least.

"Who are you, that digs in the bones?"

And then, as an afterthought--"Have they called you, too..?"

The Hallowed Caller perched at her back let out a quiet, haunting call, as if to echo Giggle's question.

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ROLL THE BONES