It was cold, and it was dark, and he was lost.

"Simon? Can you hear me? Where are you?"

He could feel it closing in around him, almost making it hard to move. The darkness so thick it made the air feel like trudging through water- or maybe that was the exhaustion getting to him?

"Simon? Sim-"

Suddenly his words were cut off. It felt as if every ounce of air in his lungs had been sucked out. Then there was the slashing of ice cold claws- across his legs, tail, flank, EVERYWHERE. He would've cried out in pain, if he had the air left in his lungs to do so. Instead, he fell into the sand, feeling it, rough and unforgiving, on his face and sore feet and exhausted legs. The blackness in his vision becoming blacker, everything becoming fuzzy and numb.

Simon, I hope you're safe.

And then, everything went blacker than black.

There was little fight left in Usingizi. Her vision blurred, all she could see was the pale light, and the shifting dark shapes within. Rather like the shapes she had seen, in the beginning she noted, somewhat ironically. But in the back of the group, she saw one shape, bright orange in her one, dull eye. It had stalled next to her.

But the group ahead, they marched on. They didn't even seem aware of the fact. They're leaving him, she realized, her one dull eye flicking back and forth. She slithered around him, smooth, cool coils and her scratchy, cold sweater wrapped amongst orange hair.

"Not here," she said, a sigh. As she breathed in, the toxic gas hit her as well. In her state, swimming between life and death, she barely noticed her burning lungs, or the way the air never reached them. With a push of her flank, she flung Howl further from her. That way, she thought. That's where everyone is going. The last vestiges of strength were gone from the snake. As she lay there, she thought she saw the darkess take form.

A dripping head extended, and laid next to her. A single red eye shining. Phlegethon, come to greet her. One last visit from her brother. "Oh, Phleg," she mouthed. Her eye blinked closed. Breathing steadied and slowed. And slowed further. Safe, next to her first and last friend. She could rest here.

Blood/gore warning?

Silence.

No, no, this couldn't be it. This couldn't be it.

Where was he?

A dappled head, colored like sunlight he will never see, fallen leaves he will never experience, swung this way and that. Nothing. He slithered forward, then back, serpentine coils grinding against sand. Nothing. No sound. No movement. Nothing but him and the tiny baubled necklace around his neck.

Was it still glowing? Did it ever glow? His sight was being snuffed out, a dark hand suffocating the candle of his orange eyes. He couldn't see it's shine. He couldn't see himself. Could he even remember what light looked like? Was there even anything beyond this darkness? Or was he always here?

Did he even exist? Or was this body just a mirage? Were those memories he held so close fake? The giripping void seemed to tear through his very existence. Every moment he seemed to lose another part of himself. He couldn't remember. He couldn't remember who he was, or why he was here. He couldn't remember his name.

The darkness was freezing. The air swept out of his lungs. He gagged, a soft whimper against the crushing silence.

He had a thought.

'Who am I?'

The sand here is soft.

'What's sand?'

Lie down, just a moment. You're so, so tired. You worked so hard. Rest a little.

'I'm scared.'

But the little voice in his head seemed right. He was tired. Maybe he could just rest a bit. He could just close his eyes... and... and...

"Simon? Can you hear me?"

A voice. A voice he knew. Owlface. He knew them. They were... a friend. And... and they lived in a cave together... a cave with all their friends. He raised his head, weakly, against the freezing vacuum. He couldn't see them-- he didn't even know if he could still see-- but he could hear them faintly. Weren't they supposed to stay with the group? He could remember it now. They were in a group, travelling through here, lighting torches. Why did they follow him?! There was another- Kini. Kini-yolotl. Did they come after him? They shouldn't! He-- He told them not to follow!

"No! Get back to the group! F-Find Sora and the others and--"

He ran out of air. And in that moment, the shadows struck.

Unseen claws ripped into his scales. Invisible fangs tightened around his neck. He writhed, a jerky attempt to throw an intangible enemy off. Blood he couldn't see splattered onto the ground. This was it. The end. He made one last attempt to slither away, but talons ripped into his spine, exposing a crystalline vertebrae, snapped and caked with blood. He collapsed with a soft humph.

Did... did they care about him that much? To follow him into darkness? To risk their lives for him?

As his own blood and flesh oozed into the sand, happy memories began to dance in his head. Him as a little snakelet, playing in a dark cave. Morganite prancing around, carrying him on their back. Charles's poetic speech and Pumpkin's loud, enthusiastic tweeting. Orenstein's jokes. Ifrit's playful tricks. He could hear them faintly, now, crying his name from a faraway light. They cared for him. They loved him so, so much. And he loved them, too. He was so sorry he led two of them to their deaths, but they chose to do it, for him. And now, at least, they could be together.

Simon smiled.

The sand was soft.

They were vanishing, all around him, and cold panic gripped him now.

He did not want them to die, and he found himself trembling, his conscious thought becoming fragmented as his senses took it all in. His eyes seeing them dip and out of darkness--some never coming back. The cries in his ears, the whispers somewhere distant. The feel of cold and the scratches across his hide.

Where was the black creature he had pulled from the dark-? There--sinking into the marsh, gone.

Ice gripped Warrior's heart.

He began to round the group, trotting swiftly around the perimeter of the light, watching with frantic shifts of his eyes for danger, for others fading and Who are we missing-? he thought, wretchedly.

Prayers, then--in his mind, pleading with the land for help, begging the sand to embrace those it had taken and keep them somehow safe, for the rock to protect them. They were, by his estimation, quite close to the place he had hatched, though in this darkness it was hard to tell. It was a guess based on their direction, how far they'd come. Wouldn't it be ironic if he died, here-?

He tried not to think about it, instead turning his eyes to the others, watching them all with fear.

Fear not for himself, but for this new cluster of strangers, this new group that had disrupted his home and now fell like flies all around him.

horse stock: colourize-stock.deviantart.com

Warrior is protecting everyone.

Something cold and heavy settled in the pit of Sora's stomach. Helplessness was not a new feeling to her -- every time someone passed by her blind side or climbed out of her reach, she felt its bitter lash. It usually turned into rage, overwhelming like a tsunami as it tore through her and lashed out at those she loved. But her energy was draining as helplessness set in. Three of her brood were dead. She'd known going into this that it wouldn't be easy, but three of them were gone and it wasn't as if she could even recover their stones, was it?

But the worst of all was that Kini-yolotl was gone. So now she was left with a choice -- let Morganite lead their drove by themselves and be swallowed by it all, or step up? There was a line of succession here, even if it wasn't obvious, and Sora who had once taken comfort in doing what she was told and not being required to make strong decisions was now being thrust into Kini's position. But she wasn't going to let him down or disgrace his memory. Sora nudged Morganite -- a clear gesture. I'm here.

She called out to her family -- "I love you all. Remember that. We love each other. That love will keep us strong. Let's get to work." The knowledge that the light would split again was upsetting, to say the least, but Sora was courageous -- or, at least, she was going to pretend she was for her siblings. The Hydra trials were brutal and soul-sucking, but she'd make sure that at least one of her siblings survived. No matter what the cost may be.


SORA is rolling to stay within the light.

TRIAL OF HYDRA - DARKNESS

IT FEEDS

As the shadows claimed its fallen prizes, curling them away into the dark, the sense of darkness around the survivors became palpable.

The muffled silence grew oppressive, a pressure upon their ears. The cold fell into frost-breathed ice.

It was growing stronger.

It would be unwise to continue feeding it.

Ru was swallowed by the dark. Cold evnveloped them, and they feared retaliation from the dark. Cold claws or such gripping them. Scratches and cuts, as the others had. No such thing came. The cold was opressive, and it settled into their bones. But whatever had attacked the others did not come. Quartz leapt back into the beacon of light. Bucking wildly at nothing.

Panting, each breath shallow. Ru should have been injured. Why? Why? Ru gave a quick head count. The screaming, the cries. There--there were others missing. A grim realization of why it was unscathed. In the chaos, Ru couldnt count. How many had stayed? How many were gone? Had those missing gone into the dark?

Ignored Ru's advice? Ru cursed under their breath. They had gone after the drowning gembound. Ru was sure of it. Either that, or the dark had dragged them back. How could they protect those that ignored their warnings? From a formless entity that sought to pick them off like this? With a gulp, and a silent exhale, Ru's gemstone flickered to life.

RU is preparing for the next round.

Kini spiraled, and spiraled, and spiraled further, desperately trying to hold onto hope, straining to listen, and then... straining to breathe. Reaching for some distant light at the end of an eternal tunnel, some kind of warmth that was nowhere close, a light that Kini-yolotl was very quickly realizing... just like the wisp it had before tried to consume, that light could never be touched, never be reached, never be felt. No warmth. No sight. All there was was pain, and darkness, the depth of oblivion matching the depth of Kini's wounds... wounds... wounds...

Wound into a new direction. An unexpected turn in this tunnel, an unexpected consequence to this action, leading to an unexpected feeling ripping through Kini's gut, tearing out all its worries and grief, evacuating words from its tongue and memories from its mind. Tearing it all away; Simon, Owlface, Sora, Ifrit, Anemoi, Charles, Orenstein, Pumpkin, Morganite.... SIMON! OWLFACE! Morganite please...

And it was all gone. The silence... the nothingness... was this not what Kini had been made for? Was this not what Kini had deserved?

But not its family. The memories had to go, everything in Kini's brain, because this was for Kini alone. Not them. Kini wasn't leaving; no, this was a send-off for them. Like children growing out of their nest, memories of Kini-yolotl's family could finally leave it safely, having cultivated to the point where departure was ensured. Off to a new life they would go, and Kini would be left behind in a new place. Where no sound was heard, no move was made, nothing lost and nothing gained. Nothing lost but Kini. Nothing but Kini.
Nothing.

He stuck close to the giraffe. When the... figure, appeared--uncertain, fading--he looked at it, and then to Ifrit. "I do not know," he answered, quietly and grimly--and glanced over his shoulder. There was crying, in the dark--anguished shouting--and more of them had vanished.

But there was fire there, too: flames, licking at the sticks in Puck's hands. Fireheart nodded to him.

"You--little one? What is your name? I am Fireheart," he told it--and Ifrit, both. Slender white legs turned, the scratches over him matting his pale fur with blood. "It is up to us to keep everyone here alive. That was smart--bringing fire; if one of us dies, the rest must carry it on."

He turned, eyes darting to the rest. The moment they put flame to the torch, the wisp would move on: and so Fireheart called out, attempting to gather their attention.

"PLEASE, listen to me!" he bellowed--and his gut wrenched as he realized just how many of them had gone missing.

Nassir was gone. Gone; forever, Fireheart thought; and what would he tell Pride-? How could he be the one to explain that a friend had died--if he himself even made it out of here alive-...

Fireheart lifted the levitating flame high above his head, hot and crackling and orange, so unlike the cold wisps that still pursued him. "We WILL NOT ALL DIE HERE, today! Do not go into the dark! Stay with the FIRE. Stay with the flame--it is the only thing that will keep us alive! Keep these two alive! Carry flame with you, if you can!" A pause, then, as he looked them over--wounded and grim, grieving. He was no leader--and he knew nothing of inspirational speaking but they were failing, now, and if they did not rally, they all might die.

"Those of us remaining HAVE to live--or else, who will carry the memory of those who have fallen? Don't let that fall, here. GET A FIRE, and KEEP IT ALIVE, and help one another, and we will make it."

A hollow promise, perhaps: but Fireheart trusted in this crackling heat and light, in this life-giving destruction that burned away the dark. And he turned, attempting to settle it against the second torch, to ignite a new beacon for them to travel by.

Fireheart is attempting to light the torch.

Blood streamed from Pucks's mouth, the same violent shade as his eyes. His teeth, the remaining ones, were grit. Puck's eyes stared far off, not focused on the group. The screams and noises he granted a flick of the eyes.

The crackling heat of the torches didnt seem real. It seemed all a nightmare. Puck wondered, absently, if he touched the flame, would he feel its burn? Would the others? The white wolf complimented Puck. Called him useful. Puck nodded, quietly.

Not quite paying attention to his speech. Puck caught the voice of Sora, the boar that had kicked him. He remembered the pain. He could feel the teeth missing from that hit. And all his uncertain feelings, all the confusion and horror coalesced into one bloated, horrifying emotion. Rage.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion, after that. His lips curled to bear yellowed canines, and Puck threw a torch indiscriminately. At the apex of Puck's throw, a pocket of toxic gas, invisible to the eye, swelled into his face. It burned Puck's eyes and throat, and he dropped the torch, coughing as the gas invaded.

PUCK is attempting to sabotage Hera