First had been the cloud of sickness. He’d swallowed it, choked, and disappeared.

Memories, cycles worth, then bled their colors until only the darkness behind eyelids remained. Scent and taste dulled and disappeared. Sound left last; panic the final recollection, a siren pitch echoed off cranial walls before being cut off. With that, all cognition ceased.

In a way, this was a return to the beginning. Or maybe there’d never been a moment past that. Outside might have been imaginings, fiction devised within a void. Whatever proof existed otherwise belonged to a slumbering lizard, his awareness extinguished so that answers were not forthcoming. And in absence of his protestations, the surroundings could assert themselves, their declaration uncontested: life had been a dream, one composed of air and light and soil.

Reality was stone, smooth and unbroken.

Time went unmarked as it had in the period before his birth. The differences between the past and present were few. He breathed unplagued by fear, and his chrysalis home sheltered him, but when originally it’d become too snug for comfort with growth, its surface now clung easily enough to his sides to be a second skin. Residence doubling as a cradle, he was pacified, ignorant to the creeping changes underway.

Flesh could have shifted or ripped, stretched out and melded back together. Without sensation, no one could know.

What would have happened had he been awake when the cracks began to spread over his reformed world? He might have stubbornly refused, gathering his limbs in close, terrified of reliving the eviction that had cast him into Pisces. Or knowledge of what lay beyond those walls, of Imp and of his promises, might have caused him to hasten his reemergence.

His mind empty at that very instant, neither of these decisions came to pass. Instead water flooded nostrils and mouth before thoughts could stir, and he awoke gasping to a struggle in an enclosed space. Reminded of hatchling days, instinct howled for escape.

Kicks battered the inside, and the initial cracks spiderwebbed. His tail lashed, widening them. Even more water rushed in, the gaps created aiding its invasion. Stone scraped from repeated impact, but although what pieces there were budged, they did not fully separate. Snout spewing bubbles, he drew it back, then flew forward to butt against the fragmenting walls.

Despite the damage, they held strong.

He rammed them again. Scorching energy channeled through veins and erupted from scales. Shards of chrysalis yielded to collision and fell apart. Tumbling head over rear, freed from his prison, the iguana was tossed into the open sea. Relief might have been the first emotion to saturate his thoughts if not for what immediately followed.

A wave hit. Hard.

Fahl hurtled backwards. Lungs already clogged by water, a steady stream spouted from lips as a massive force crashed against ribs. Brain rattling in its case, his vision spun, and churning foam lapped at eyes. Control so entirely seized, no amount of flailing could correct his course. Fortune was what kept his spine from meeting the solid far wall of the chamber he'd reentered, his trajectory vertical more than horizontal. He bobbed to the surface mere inches from there.

"Fa—fff—fuh—kkk!" Chest heaving, Fahl hacked. Intestines twisted while he gagged. Black scales faded to gray and paled to stark white before washing over his entire body. What remained of rusty mottled red flared into scarlet. Shoulders quaked until wheezes could be words, and once that happened, his call was loud and full of confusion. "Far—farina! Master Farina?"

He'd been here. And then... Why the stone? The encasing? The last time that'd ever occurred had been so long ago, the remnants swept away by his cave's waterfall.

His next exhale shook as it exited his throat, uncertain of current circumstances. He didn't understand.

"How...?" he murmured.

Mind fogged, thoughts insubstantial and slipping loose from grasp despite his best efforts, the rapid click of many approaching feet did not at first draw his attention. Eyes stayed fixed on the water lapping at his sides and belly, its image wavering as sluggish movements straightened him from a slouched position. Tears from the previous coughing fit blurred the corners of his vision, further distorting what could be perceived. This was the room he'd left, for certain, but something about it seemed off from before.

An experimental flick of his tail pushed him forward. Toes plunged down to find the depth less than what'd been. A richness lingered in the air that had not existed prior to his baffling imprisonment. He remembered Farina had partially drained away the water, the area once entirely submerged—had she done more since then?

Scales shifting tan, his complexion muddied as much as his comprehension. Scarlet markings followed suit, their intensity subdued to sunset orange. This appearance did not last for long however. Orange flashed fluorescent yellow-green at the sound of snapping claws and spoken word close by, and his head jerked up to its source.

Confronted by pounds of resilient shell and sharp pincers, Fahl could not help the involuntary stiffening of neck muscles. His jaw wired shut at being peered down upon, and it took a few hard swallows for speech to return. When it did, what came out were bewildered sputters.

"Fins." He lifted a dripping wet paw to his eye, saw the difference he'd attributed to leftover illness or confusion. "Colors?"

If not for the boom of her voice and the question, or rather demand, carried upon it, every limb might have been given a thorough examination for a fishlike appearance. Shaken to attentiveness, his spine snapped rigid. Possible answers whisked through his head: for recognition, for his teacher, for the eventual wrath that might be brought down upon Nemean by helping an enemy of hers. There was so much he wished to explain, but also little patience or ability to say it all in a timely fashion. Still, the attempt had to be made, and so a long breath was drawn in before Fahl began.

"My—my kind." Did she mean the group? He supposed so. "I can't speak for all, but for the most vocal"—like that whale, so loud and naive in convictions—"and myself, we went to right an injustice. The Blacksmith informed us this was to be a rescue mission, and that... Nemean, the Betrayer, was to blame for your loss."

Just mention of her name caused heat to rise in his throat, the surrounding scales burning molten gold from the rage. Her smug laughter rang in his skull, and a resentful huff left him before speaking again.

"Our suffering pales in comparison to what she's done to you and yours... but that shi—" His teeth clacked together. A shudder rippled throughout his body, but he swallowed the foulness that threatened to spill out. "She's ruined lives pointlessly. Robbed them of their purpose for laughs. By going to the City... by helping, we could rectify one of her wrongs. At least what little we could."

Speech had emboldened him, his limbs spurred unconsciously from water and onto coral. Neck craned far back, he stared up at the Master, searching for emotion, whether anger of her own or something besides. Even now, his knees were on the verge of collapse, aware of the power that the one he dared to meet eyes with possessed.

The snap of claws carried the finality of a death sentence. Dignity fled Fahl's stance, shoulders hunching as a chill breeze sliced into his scales from overhead. His toes became a far more curious sight than the irate crab above, bruise purple spreading up them, and a tiny inner voice advised retreat before the next clamp crushed his throat. Another faint, mildly absurd thought pointed out that it'd been a good thing height had not been one of his improvements, else there'd be no mind left to fret over the pain that could be inflicted if boundaries were crossed.

To cower like this, though, with white swirls of alarm and concern painting his backside, evoked disgust that could not be soon dispelled. Farina was so much more than him, just as that Master in his home of Pisces had been. Regardless of how he trained himself to greater heights, their lofty pedestals remained far from reach. And Nemean, as awful and detestable as she was, hers rested at a similarly unattainable spot as well. After all, how else could she have so thoroughly screwed over the one whom he now addressed?

He was still a student, not yet surpassed his teacher, let alone capable of delivering the revenge many craved. Bitterly aware of this, little could be done besides heed and obey. Already halfway to submission due to fear, Fahl fully prostrated himself.

"I will," he declared.

But within reason. Her rant had spawned questions, answers to which might not be forthcoming, as he sensed they were open wounds that'd sting awfully if prodded. Real masters—Farina and Artio, yes. Nemean, of course not. But what of others? And tests? To her, he wouldn't ask these, but someone who he believed to be a trusted expert. Only with the complete certainty that consultation might bring would he preach their gospel in bellows instead of whispers.

At the clicks that signaled her beginning departure from his midst, so too did he rise up and start turning to the water. However, before taking leave, Fahl wished a response to a single question.

"And what future is in store for the Betrayer?"

A public and gruesome end, he hoped, one befitting her sadism.

One word. That was all she'd needed, the simple statement given enough volume and fervor that the entire surroundings quaked in response. The effect unavoidable to the living, and him undisciplined in handling his shifting pigmentation, a flurry of vibrant colors swept over Fahl, contrasting greatly with an expressionless face.

Cyan—yellow—white—magenta. Then, eyes closed in acceptance, every aspect of him deepened to maroon. He said nothing more at this point, conversation's finish indicated by a nod. Attention directed no longer over a shoulder, the swish of long tail fins continuing his intended turn, the iguana lumbered away.

His armband was missing. This he noted as awkward steps became fluid strokes with submersion, neither forearm encircled by glinting silver. Yet another thing different from what he last recalled, but bound to be somewhere nearby if not stolen away during his unusual confinement. While it'd delay the return to the surface, going without the trinket wouldn't be the smartest choice; the journey long, safety was necessary in case his breath could not hold.

An impatient sigh heaved from his chest. Let it be known that Fahl refused to be a dumbass, especially when reputation lay on the line. He doubted the embarrassment of drowning halfway on the ascent from the Black City could ever be shaken, even in death.