ORIGIN

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The unease dogged at Kerberos, unrelenting even now. He knew it wasn't the-- the Murder, the big M, the brutal killing and eating he had done of a Greater Gembound-- that had felt different. But when he chased down the feeling, he ended up in the middle of Tunnel K, in the dark, chilling place between worlds.

The gate that he guarded.

Something was wrong, here. Kerberos paced back and forth, sniffing here and there to try and figure out where he had left the bones and the gem.

He had hid it all just a little too well, it seemed. That, or someone had moved the bones. Was that possible? Why would someone do that? The hellhound whined, pacing a bit more urgently. They had been right here, hadn't they?

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None of it made sense. Something kept nagging at him, like fleas under his pelt or a wallcrawler trying to get in between his toes. He kept thinking he heard something-- but his heads shook, dismissing the creeping sensation.

This was his Tunnel. He had never let it bother him like it had bothered so many other Gembounds. He protected his family here. He held the gate. Had his ghosts really started to effect him like this? He was certain if he just found where the dead bird's bones were, he could get to the bottom of things.

He stopped, digging another hole with his huge, wide forepaws, kicking up stone and dirt. Yet again, nothing, and this time when Kerb turned to stalk back the way he had came, his paw slipped down an incline, and the massive white dog fell into...

A hole.

Not a hole he had dug. Not a hole that seemed like anyone had dug-- it was far too... Unnatural. A whine caught in the back of his throat. He had been up and down this tunnel millions of times, he knew there was no branching tunnels. It went from Canis to Orion. Orion to Canis.

Where... Where did this lead?

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Kerberos made his way down the too-smooth, incorrect tunnel. His ears pinned back to his skull, the ringing growing louder and louder. The light from the tunnel above was gone now, too far away, and he simply could not see. His paws stumbled on nothing, and the sound...

The horrible, indiscriminate and vague sounds, were getting louder. The hellhound wanted to run, to turn back, but something drove him to keep going. He pulled at his magic, willing his body to provide the light he needed to keep going.

... But even that did not come. The darkness swallowed him, enveloping him so deeply that the only way he could keep track of which way to go was by the slope: down, down, down. The feeling was familiar, invasive and terrible. He wanted to fight the Darkness, but that was... That was nothing. Again, he shook his heads, his thick coat fluffing up to try and keep warm. He pressed further onward, driven by an intense need to know what was at the bottom.

Would he ever reach the end?

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The cerberus's eyes, all five of them, adjusted.

Except... Perhaps adjusted was not the right word. A faint, fake light: violet, maybe, if one had to put a color to it, began to seep into his vision. His paws reached the end of the line: a small place, where a massive pearly slab rose like a tombstone, shimmering in all sorts of unnatural shades.

The room spoke to him as he fell completely still, transfixed with horror. Everything in him told him that this was wrong, that this place was not right. His body trembled in the cold, mist of his own breath, and he caught glimpses of himself: black furred, with blue, cyan, purple flashes of color that were not correct. He wasn't seeing-- what he was seeing wasn't the right things at all.

Whispers, unable to be ignored, filled his ears, teasing him. Begging to listen, demanding his attention. His tail had tucked up under his body, completely chilled to the bone. His magic, even if he could summon it, brought no light to the impenetrable darkness. If anything, when he pulled on his magic-- seeking warmth, this time, more than light-- his form only grew darker.

... He was not supposed to be here.