Consciousness returned only slowly, and with it, pain; the agony of wounds across his body, some shallow and some deeper. A heaving cough, then another, woke him fully. Automatic, agonized; there was sandy water still in his lungs that his body heaved to reject. This tore at the sore muscles, at the wounds lashing his skin, and he cried out between coughs.

He lay on his side, the silt having given up on drowning his size, perhaps--or maybe once the dark receded, it was no longer dragging him down. It took him several minutes of struggle to extricate himself, to stand on legs so wobby that he felt like a fresh and helpless foal again. And then he staggered, head low, half in a daze, away from the water.

He lifted his head. Where were the rest..? The light was returning, and he coughed again, and then angled for Hydra's exit. Surely any survivors would be there.

Warrior lurched into a slow and rambling trot, and then a faster one--weak, yes, but urgency driving him, the last vestiges of adrenaline spurring him on. He staggered often, and coughed as he went. And he passed, too, the melting remains of Gembound: black puddles, sinking away into the marsh. He eyed this with fear, exhaustion, and skirted them.

When at last he reached the rest they were likely nearing the exit; and he came up muddied, bloodied, wretched with wounds and weariness. His white coat was soaked with mud and blood, mane and tail dark with both and tangled, knotted, wet. He looked like a marsh beast all his own, and he glared at them all sidelong as he came on. The horse wanted to berate them--for coming in, for risking themselves again, for dying. But he was too tired-...

...and at least these hadn't died. He had to pity them that, even if they were fools, bringing monsters into his home once again.

He'd have to check on Vee...

horse stock: colourize-stock.deviantart.com

The torch didn't light. The fire went out. The idea of never being able to make it out alive was burned into their brain, what if they weren't able to light the torch. What if they were stuck in the darkness forever. What if the torch never got lit. The bird bathed in blue didn't know when their vision started blurring, but they didn't have tears in their eyes to make that happen.

They were still burning, too.

Then the torch got engulfed in flames and Rainstorm's burning eyes widened at the light a moment - and then something else happened. The darkness receeded. It was the last torch. Only, the sudden light burned their eyes more - Rainstorm closed them a moment before opening them again. They could see the sand - the things around them. But only the things just in front of their beak. That was.... a problem. Their wing was caked with blood - they would figure out how to heal it later.

Rainstorm began the trek to the exit.

Morganite stood there for a moment before slowly sitting down, shaking like a leaf as they watched the shadows close in, only able to hold their family as they thought that all this suffering was for nothing. They couldn't speak as they felt the cold on their fur and squeezed their eyes shut.

Red burned from behind their eyelids and they flew open, immediately squinting at the sudden light. They averted their eyes and waited for them to adjust before looking around. It was gone. They'd survived.

Morganite's chest started to heave as they collapsed onto the ground, sobbing grossly as they clenched their paws and dug them into the sand, big fat tears rolling down her cheeks. Many would try to comfort them with the fact that they'd saved some of their family, but the truth was out in the open and it didn't matter if they accepted it or not. They'd failed those they couldn't save, and failed everyone else by doing so.

They didn't deserve the life they had. Not when it had been saved by sacrifices too great to bear.

They found themself staggering to their feet, their legs like putty as they trudged forward, silent. Occasionally they'd nudge a stray sibling back into the group, but it was half-hearted and they found themself lagging behind.

The moment they found the entrance, they just... sat down.

"... We need to find shelter," they mumbled, so out of it that it was like they were looking down at themselves rather than actively participating in what their body was doing, "Somewhere to rest."

(tw for psychosis and really nasty things being said to sora)

Sora prickled with anxiety when the light from the torch she'd help light grew. But then the darkness cracked and crumbled like a chrysalis, fleeing from the light like it should have in the beginning instead of chasing it away. The cold fell away, and Sora looked up in muted wonder at the unsteady dawn of the flickering lights above her. She had survived, and so had many of her siblings, but... at what cost?

kini-yolotl would have done more, whispered a voice that was not entirely her own. It seemed to sink icy claws into her soul like the shadows had done her body, but her whole being was numb. The voice was right. Kini would have done more. Kini had died trying to save Simon and Owlface. Sora hadn't even tried to protect them, had she? She hadn't even tried to save Simon's stone. She hadn't tried to save any of them. Could she really call herself a protector? who are you to decide that your life is more valuable than theirs. who are you to decide. who are you to play executioner. you are no better than the merchant. monster. vile, vile thing. monster.

She grunted and turned her head sharply, but she couldn't see anybody speaking to her. Sora looked like she'd seen a ghost as she swallowed hard and helped Morganite herd stragglers towards the exit. This wasn't done, not yet. They were out of the darkness, and the sun was rising in its own strange way, but they were still in Hydra. They still weren't safe. They still needed to escape.

"C'mon, guys," she said hoarsely. "We're almost there. We-- we can go find somewhere with plants, like-- like we always wanted. Somewhere with a river, maybe? I can t-teach you all how to swim..." She'd never sounded quite so broken, which made the fact that she was trying to pretend she was okay that much more brutal. pathetic. failure. no more.

he followed the sound of his families familiar footsteps, the harsh light of hydra's entrance hurting his eyes. he thought it'd be nice to mention now that he couldn't exactly..

"see... m-morgan, n-nemo, s-sora? i c-cant- i cant see-" he twittered, perching on what he was sure was morgan's horns. "s-shelter... i need to clean my eyes out... i wanna get away from this cave.." he shivered.

"we made it..." he twittered, it finally sinking in as he broke into a sob atop morgan's head.

Charles did nothing but shiver atop of Ifrit as the Trial came to an end. His eyes were squeezed shut, fear and horror forcing him to recede deep into his psyche, eyes glazed and clouded, mind empty of any more thoughts, because thinking of anything now just hurt too much. It hurt so much and he, perhaps selfishly, ran from that hurt - defenseless atop Ifrit, only clutching his protector through instinct. He'd gone completely still, just the slightest tremble in his body alerting anyone that he was still awake.

But then the darkness started to shift, pulling at Charles attention enough to get him to crawl out of that dark space for a moment, more out of fear then anything - they'd used the dark to hurt them already, would they be so cruel to twist their light as well?! He tensed up, ready for some other danger, but then...it was gone. The darkness had receded and all that was left was Hydra - the real Hydra, open and bright and warm. A cave bigger then Charles could ever imagine, and he couldn't help chirping out, "Oh, look at that!"

But then his gaze shifted down and he saw them, strewn about in the marshes at their feet - piles of black oil, still decomposing, still in the forms and shapes of the ones he'd known. Even the strangers pulled at his heart, because they didn't deserve to die, but his sympathy was greatest for the siblings that had been lost along the way.

Suddenly, Charles couldn't take it anymore. With a snap, his consciousness was fully back and instead of sadness or emptiness or fear, his heart burst with a righteous anger. He let out a furious call and jumped off of Ifrit's head, fluttering down and circling around and above the survivors. "Injustice!" he squawked. "Cruelty! A curse on the Merchant's head! What was the point of all of this? What was the purpose?! To raise us in a cave, trapped, alone, ignorant, only to lead us to our deaths! Raising us only to slaughter us, pointlessly! Our siblings rot in the water and for what reason?! WHY?! I swear, my talons to the Merchant! My talons to his allies and the beast in the dark! Curse them, curse them a hundredfold! This isn't right, this isn't fair! This is detestable! All we wanted to do was leave our cave! To explore and see the trees and live our lives in peace together! We loved each other, we did nothing wrong, we did nothing to deserve this, yet here we are, cracked and broken and torn apart! WHERE IS THE JUSTICE IN THIS?!" And then, because apparently he could not hold it in anymore, he changed his angle until he was above the ones that had come willingly. "And YOOOUUUU!! Why would you come in here? What were you thinking?! You could have survived, you could have been happy! You could have lived but no, you had to wander into the darkness and give up what we so desperately desired! Don't come back in here, I say do not!! And spread that word - there's no point to any of this! Just LIVE!"

He was breathing heavily by the time he was done with his rant and his wings, not fantastic for extended flying, were starting to ache so he landed himself on Anemoi's back, trembling with emotion, and puffing out angrily, eyes narrowed as he tried to keep the sobs trying to escape his throat from reaching his beak. He didn't have the right to cry - he could only be angry on behalf of his siblings that had died for no reason.

Oliver was waiting at the mouth of Hydra, trying to ignore the hulking monsters sitting there. They were silent--the purple one seemed... grim?

He was a little sad he'd arrived late. He'd said goodbye to his Dad before he'd left, of course, but he'd wanted to say it again; wanted to wish him good luck.

The crow-dog was half Black's size, but the way he huddled there, uncertain and looking rather lost, made him seem much smaller. He fidgeted, and snuck a glance toward Crown.

"I'm sure he's okay. Dad's always okay. Dad's fought dragons," he offered, quietly. They'd not spoken much--they'd barely met--but Black had told Oliver of the incident behind the other childrens' formation, and he winced at remembering that mentioning the dragon probably wasn't wise. Well, the one of them, at least. "Um--anyway. He'll come back," he assured.

He then looked toward Hydra.

As the others began returning, he called out to them--hesitant, worried, his pale blue gaze (so much like his father's) searching the returning figures. "Hi? -Are you okay?" he began, pushing up from his haunches--hesitating.

He's not there.

"...Has anyone seen my dad?" A pause, as he looked over those returning. They looked... battered. Bloodied. A bird was ranting, in the distance, upset. For a moment, he felt uncertain; as if he were intruding, as if asking about one Gembound would be so incredibly selfish with so many wounded, and so many more likely dead. He knew about the Trials, after all, but-...

...but it was his father.

More distraught, he called out again. "Excuse me--I'm sorry--but... Has anyone seen our dad? Did you see my Dad? He's bigger than me, black--his name's Black-... Have you seen him?"

"Has anyone seen my Dad..?"

{Table code credit to Madison, altered a bit!}

Oliver's assurances weren't the first he'd offered to the lamb. They were hardly acquainted, and despite being as one another's brothers, Crown couldn't help but to feel alone. Sword wasn't here, and neither was Dad... their dad.

Black hadn't changed like his body did, but... the hybrid couldn't help but feel that there was something wrong. It was the halberd, at first, ominous and black, then it was the rolling shadows and the earth soiled in his wake. Crown never said anything about it - he loved his father too much to - but it worried him. Then, the dog went into Hydra.

Into the dark.

In short, it was hard for him to still his quivering frame and keep himself from sniffling and sobbing. There were monsters here, acidic lights bleeding from their eyes and from between their teeth. Crown didn't want them to see him crying but there was just such an overwhelming maelstrom of emotion in him. A glow wreathed his form, as if that would chase away the stinging sensation at the backs of his eyes.

Dad's not coming back... and he knew it to be true when his dark figure wasn't visible in the approaching group, when the crow-dog was asking about their father, when Crown counted the heads through blurry eyes. He was gone, he was gone he was gone he was gone he was an orphan and hisbrotherwasgoneasleepforeverandthedarknesstookhimwhereisthedarknessI'llkillitI'llkillit I'll kill it I'LL KILL IT.

But, first, he had to get off of his knees, get his snout off of the ground and stop making it rain in the desert.

He... couldn't. He was alone and he couldn't. Sniffling, sobbing, weeping into the earth.

lemme get a uhhh triple sadburger with cheese
Gone in a wink.

A few - if any - creatures down here held the ability to know when a presence left the caves. When they were sent out of being, never to be seen again. Alpha could not have possibly known the exact moment the mother of its stone had been reduced to her Oil, but it did know the diminished size of the group returning from the Dunes. Their bloodied, battered forms. The stink of fear swirling around them and the desperate mutterings to return.

It did know that she was not among them. It looked regardless, reaching out for every circulatory system in the group and beyond - as far as its magic could go. Deeper, deeper, look. Where is she? Red, red, red, all too small. Feeble forms. No tall stature, ignoring the spotted hoof-creature.

Where is she?! its mind quailed again, quills pricking. Alpha stiffened, glanced at its master in its periphery. Holding tension for one, two, and three seconds, the orthoclase stared dead-ahead.

Why was it so concerned? Why did it care so much that its stone-giver - a mere donor of the chunk of stone that made it - had gone in without being stopped? That she hadn't returned but most of those disgusting, feeble little animals did? Claws curled into the rock. It stared ahead, towards the entrance to Hydra.

Not now.

Not now.

Not now, he was watching.

The torch came to life.

The flame lit.

The light bloomed.

The horse was still alive.

She should check on him.

She couldn't move.

She shook and shook and shook

and stared and stared and stared.

Blinked at the other bird, long and slow as he ranted.

Said not a word.

There was a winged dog that looked like the one that had died.

"He's dead." she said as though in a trance and then, breathless, breaking into hysterical laughter that trailed into sobs, the words choked out with each dwindling gulp of air, "Saved one who died, his sacrifice meant nothing, he died for nothing!" Her wings spread wide, a gust of wind lashed out, striking her and knocking her from her perch where, lacking the will to rise, she remained stretched out in the sand, blinking blearily.

Speech. Thought.

@Crown @Crown