Thank Caves that debacle was over with.

Mercurius followed some ways behind the unicorn's heels, head carried low and speaking in a careful, hushed whisper for two reasons: one, not to interrupt the other two's conversation and, two, not to dredge up any negative response in the yet-unnamed horse. Perhaps, I should have issued some introductions, he had thought, just as he set foot in Eridanus. Regardless, his whisperings were reserved for Pride, giving meaning to images sent prior via another mental link --- the old lion had a headache from all of the mind-based communication, by the way.

Only his slightly furrowed brow and wrinkled forehead showed this.

"I had reason to believe that what he saw, Pride, was not some figment of one's imagination. Would you say that," the storyteller's voice faltered, if for a moment, "the sight of that... being in the blank white... is perhaps one that we should not know?" If he had words to describe that sensation, he would consider it a divine revelation --- perhaps, not too far from the truth. "There is something beyond death, but what?"

He hoped that Pride could unravel this... quandary and perhaps do something with it.

Knowledge is key, yes, but... Mercurius thought to himself, ears flicking back as he furrowed his brow --- "some seem to desire that knowledge comes at a risk, then." It was a sad realization, born only of a dictatorship. He rumbled softly, musing over the topic, the idea that such a benevolent-seeming stag could take such a turn. Something must have occurred to have turn such a Gembound toward that path --- it was rarely without cause. Vazi had fallen into a spiral when he found himself unable to cope with the loss of his brother and Mercurius's very existence. The events that followed? Well, they had served only as catalysts to further struggle. If only he could have saved himself, the old lion's mind murmured, not for the first time; he had managed to stop blaming himself long ago.

"The Ancients have never been particularly loose-lipped, or... involved in our activities as the stag has," Mercurius nodded, moonlit eyes flicking to the rest of the group as he, too, raised his voice, "to keep others imprisoned like one does a bird --- the Three Kings..." His voice faltered, lost in a complex web of thoughts. The storyteller wished he had explored more in his youth, to provide more than philosophy.

They passed into the grove, still obscured and guarded by various thickly-grown plant life. The thorns seemed imposing, yet hosted no signs of breaking-in. Mercurius trotted a little faster --- against the will of his tired old joints --- and took the lead. He rounded the outer edge of the fringe, then pressed further on. Moonlit eyes found the faint glow of the baubles within, and paused before the grove's gate. "It would be a risk to keep Khloros here, yes," he murmured softly, looking back at his companions, "but where else? The Kingdom could enlist the aid of protectors, though its numbers are new and rather small." There was also the matter of the ex-Bloodberry children.

Every seemed to love happening at once, didn't it?

"Ah, maybe loose-lipped wasn't the right word," Mercurius murmured, mostly to himself. He was otherwise silent, focusing on shooing away some of the thorny thicket from the grotto's entrance. When a cast of magic failed, the old storyteller just set to pushing them away to the best of his abilities. With a steady paw, he nudged the briars and brackens away, avoiding every pointy bit with practiced ease. A huff, and he was done: the garden's entrance was wide enough to easily allow Khloros's entry, even with a raised head.

Rounded ears flicked toward Pride, moonlit gaze rapt. The Children of Rot remained, yet? Ah, they had been around for a long time. Did they still run beneath the same leader... Dragon, was it? Mercurius had never met the alligator, but knew that his abilities were mighty. To survive so long seeking lore, one had to be. The storyteller glanced to his other companions, before bowing his head in a deep nod. "Perhaps, the swamp would be a good idea---" Mercy indicated with a sway of his head, "come in, come in." Trotting in, he added, "rest your hooves, friends."

The garden was immaculate as always, nurtured by gently glowing baubles and flowers. Azizos and Arsu's beds remained in tip-top condition, well-cared for. Mercurius passed by either, tilting his head toward them as he went; the boys wouldn't mind their being used, he did not think. He settled down rather easily atop his own cushy bedding: prime loaf position, entered. "It would be wise to speak to them first, before bringing Khloros all that way," he rumbled agreeably, adjusting his posture slightly, "perhaps, we should go while he rests." We possibly including himself --- he'd have to see how his arthritis reacted, first.

Also, Khloros would need to rest, first, for however long he needed. The black stallion was grateful, if worried about his lack of magic. "You're welcome," Mercy began, simply, "you may just need to rest, sleep properly." There was a suggestion of prying into minds, but Mercurius found that rather exhausting. Moonlit eyes glanced over to Pride, much more practiced with such a spell. "I don't believe I need to see further into your mind, no. I can show Pride and Ayr what I saw. Do you need any food or water?"