The Spirits' Playing Ground [Starsend] [COMPLETE]

Julius' logic was... eerily sound. Although the Royal Family had countless of eyes watching Death Mountain, no one had been able to tell for sure what went on in there. What if Ganon's apparent defeat had simply been a ruse? If it was true, then this was only the beginning, and there would be no stopping him once he returned. And these dimensions were not even the first odd happenings lately- Silas had even been in one of them. Impa sinking beneath the waves, that tower in Kokiri Forest, Dragon Roost... What if that was part of it too?

Horus and Luna, however, seemed sceptic of the guardsman's theories. Silas frowned. As much as he wanted to believe it was a madman's notion, too much seemed to link together. Too much seemed to hint at a grander plan behind these dimensions.

"I'm with Julius on this. I know it sounds like a far-fetched idea, but you don't just open up multiple dimensions." It was an absurd thing to say, but it appeared to be the only explanation. "Only someone with power rivalling that of the triforce, or someone with the artifact itself would be capable of such a feat. This is no mere magic at play, there has to be more to it. Besides, I'm not sure how much you two know about what's been happening in Hyrule, but there have been more... incidents. Incidents we still have no explanation for. The guardian of Dragon Roost falling into madness, a tower appearing out of nowhere in Kokiri Forest, spreading disease, the city of Impa just... sinking. An entire city. Look, just when we thought it was over, these three portals suddenly opened up, at the same time, in some of the furthest corners from Hyrule. They're-" Silas stopped, something clicking in his mind. The locations all had one thing in common. One thing that fit perfectly into a possible diversion. "They're all awfully far from Death Mountain." And the Royal Family had sent their best and brightest to deal with them, leaving them in a particularly vulnerable position. Silas looked at Julius, wondering if the man had come to the same conclusion. It was the perfect moment for an ambush.

But there was no escape from this place, as far as they knew, and no way of getting any messages back to Hyrule. The tree would be their final goal.

Silas forced himself to focus on Luna's ideas, worrying about what was happening outside the portal would not help him here. He nodded at her plans, adding his own thoughts. "It could work. We've seen it does affect the roots, and I suppose we could suppose from that it will affect the tree as well. We can't know for sure what does and doesn't work on it, though. We'll see once we get there. And it's best we hurry."

Julius nodded at Silas' train of thought. "I understand what you're thinking. That only means that we need to hasten our return there, and immediately report our findings." If we manage to return, he wanted to add. But there was no more room for self-pity; they still had a job to do.

"Alright. I think there are a few things we should go over before we mess with the roots any further." He looked towards Horus, and then motioned for him to come closer. "You've got potential as a swordsman, if you hadn't already realized it. The Spin Attack is one of the more fundamental techniques taught to anyone in the Hyrule Guard-- it forms a sort of base, which we then teach all other techniques from." He looked at the youth's sword in its sheathe. "Get ready for a lecture, because I'm... well, at this point, I'm practically a master of it. Now, the core concept of the technique is using what is otherwise known as your material energy-- willpower, courage, determination to survive-- it can be called any number of things-- and focusing it in your blade." He thought of the techniques he had already seen Horus use. The only one he could particularly recall, of course, was entering the Spirit World. That would make a fine example.

"Recall when you separated yourself from the physical form, for instance..." He continued to lecture on and on like this, from the proper form to how to best stow energy. It would take some time for Horus to fully grasp the technique and begin to properly extend the associated energy wave, but with two users of the technique... Well, that opened up a whole other can of worms. Then, there was the process of combining and extending their individual waves of energy so that the technique itself would become even more potent; especially against this particular enemy they were, inevitably, bound to face.

"We can fine tune the technique more later, but those are the basics. You should be fine with just those." He looked at the others in the group. "I take it we're ready, then?"

"I suggest we stay in our bodies, for now, since we don't know what exactly we'll face at the tree."

Silas took a deep breath, staring at the stars around them. They looked cold and distant. The Sheikah turned to the others. With Julius having finished explaining his technique to Horus, they were ready to depart.

He took out the lighting rod again, balancing the tool on his hands. A last trace of electricity still surged through it, possibly enough to prod the root into moving.

"Alright, then." Silas swallowed. "Time to finish this."

The bolt of lightning released from the rod hit the root with a bang and a sizzling sound, sparks dancing around the dark spot where the lighting had hit the wood. For a moment, it seemed as nothing happend. But then, ever so slowly, the root started to bend and curl, drawing the asteroid closer. Closer to the tree.

The closer they got, the more Silas got a sense of something radiating off the tree. Was it magic? Perhaps the magic that created it, and the world around it in the first place? It was too faint a feeling to tell.

The tree perched on a lone asteroid, though so many roots sprouted from the bottom of its trunk that the rock beneath was barely visible, giving the impression of a sea, waves of pale white wood, twisted and gnarled. The roots themselves writhed like snakes, slowly twisting and curling over and around each other. Smallers roots branched off the bigger ones, sticking out at odd angles like grasping fingers. From the top of the trunk, enormous branches reached out to the stars above, moving as if they were swaying on the wind. Or no, Silas noticed, not the wind. There was no wind here. The branches moved in a steady rhythm, to and fro. More like the limbs of a living, breathing thing.

The asteroid slowly came to a halt, pushing into the mass off roots. Other roots rose to greet it, creeping up the rock, wrapping around it, growing into it. It appeared that if they remained on the asteroid, they would be crushed. Silas stepped off, onto a thick root, trying to keep his balance on the twisting wood. They had reached their final destination.

The tree loomed over the small group, bathed in the light of a thousand stars. Silas shuddered. There was something so instinctively wrong with this... this thing. It was no magic that radiated from it. It was a sense of intense, utter hatred. A feeling so strong that it made the act of moving towards the tree hard, as if it had taken on a physical form, a barrier. But they pressed on, navigating the treacherous mass of roots, towards the other side of the tree.

As they rounded the tree, Silas became aware of an odd smell. It was faint, but the air had a sickly tinge to it, no more than the memory of a scent. Was it coming from the wood? The Sheikah tried to ignore it, nimbly clambering over the thicker roots near the base of the tree. The feeling of hatred was stronger here, as if its source was just around the bend. Whatever it was, it had to be gruesome.

What they found on the other side confirmed that suspicion.

Silas had never felt such terror.

The very first thing Julius felt was the intense, indescribable hatred that proliferated the air -- the very space of being -- around him... around his group. As he drew ever closer to the tree, a realization dawned upon him.

The tree was alive.

More alive than other trees, he could already feel; which was an impressive task on its own, considering that he knew the limits on how far he could feel for his targets... But this was something that hadn't ever happened before. No, it was more alive in the sense of... It was a person. That was the only conclusion Julius could draw from what he felt, and from what... Everything else around him seemed to scream.

He stepped off the bit of floating rock and onto the tree's own gnarled, knobbed roots as he took in the sights and sounds around him. By all means, the perfect white broken by the occasional black marking would have been beautiful under the bath of starlight, but the entire situation... The hate echoing from the tree, the sheer rage swelling forth from its leaves; it all made Julius feel very uneasy.

He pulled a Pictobox from his Adventure Pouch. He knew now wasn't the right time... But it would help any who came after them; any who would later stumble across portals like these. They had to know what they were up against, and Julius was going to chronicle it all. What was more, is that he could provide literal vision through a pictograph. He quickly snapped a photo of the environment, and then stowed it away. Evidence, he had to remind himself. He would not check the photo itself until they were out this forsaken realm.

He had to quickly catch up with the rest of his group-- already they were beginning to round the tree, and with every step nearer to the opposite side they took... The feeling of hate only grew stronger.

Finally, they rounded the tree completely, only to stop at the sight of a man embedded into its surface. He was up to his waist in the trunk -- his arms and legs had been swallowed by the malice of the tree, he thought at first. But... No. He couldn't go down that line of thinking. What if they were one? The thought only terrified Julius.

A soundless scream echoed through the void of their surroundings. It did something, something that forced their souls from their bodies. He felt his own body slump and land upon the roots. He looked back at the creature they had seen at first.

What he saw was an indescribable terror, that drove even himself into a near-fitful panic. He wanted to run, and to hide, and to never have to lay eyes upon such a thing ever again in his existence.

He, however, had a mission to accomplish; even if it meant his death.

With a leap, Julius landed back into his body, hand already upon the hilt of his blade. He drew it in one slick motion, rolling out of the way of apparent danger as branch crashed to where his unconscious body had been. A wall of roots presented itself as he tried to approach the others' bodies as well, but in a second they were no more. He hurdled himself over them before taking place with Horus in front of Silas and Luna.

They needed a plan.

"Horus, Silas," he began keeping his eyes locked upon the tree. "Do your best to guard Luna and I." He spoke slowly, deliberately, swallowing as he felt the fear settle in the pit of his stomach. "Five seconds is all I need to charge the Hurricane Spin. After those five, I need everyone to drop the ground, no matter what's going on."

He placed himself in the ever-familiar position. Hopefully, those five seconds would be all that they needed to win this fight. Otherwise... Well, if he failed, somehow, then he would be out of the fight for at least as long as he spent charging his technique. If that happened, then Julius had no doubt in his mind that he would perish.

He needed to make this matter.

The sight of the man's true form was the most horrid thing Silas had ever seen, an undescribable terrror took hold of him as he was forced from his body. Had he not been a spirit, he was sure he would have died of fear right there and then. He fled back into his body, if only to be freed of the sight before him, gasping for breath as he felt the familiar heaviness of the mortal coil.

Julius was quick on his feet, preparing to retalitate. Until something grabbed the guardsman by the ankle and dragged him down, trying to pull the man between the twisting roots.

Silas looked down, supressing a cry of horror. It seemed they were not the first the reach the tree. But perhaps only the first to reach it alive. Between the roots, half grown into it, grasping for anything within reach, were countless bodies. Some barely even resembled anything familiar anymore, just a mass of rotted muscle and shattered bone animated by some unholy power, while others had clearly once been human. Between the roots and moving bodies, Silas caught glimpses of a familiar triangular crest.

So this was where the previous expeditions had ended up.

Luna had been correct in theorising that the tree fed on their life-force, and continued to do so until there was nothing left. The roots simply absorbed the bodies, the stench coming off it was sickening. Silas tried to designate a circle around them, trying to protect their group from the grasping hands. The circle sizzled and crackled, but the ground was not even enough to form a proper wall. Silas stepped onto a higer root, trying to remain out of reach of the decomposing soldiers. A snarl from above drew his attention.

He felt sick at the sight. Even Nihil, down in Impa, bloated and rotted, controlled by a leech, had not been as gruesome a sight as this.

The man in the tree howled, mouth tearing at the corners, black pus oozing from the wounds as he continued to rage and scream. Empty sockets were levelled at the group, the ominious sound coming from its mouth interrupted by the moans coming from between the roots. The man panted heavily, the wood in his limbs tearing at the flesh as his chest heaved in an effort to breathe. Or speak.

'...Eef...'

At first Silas percieved the sound as mere unintelligble gibberish. But the more he heard it, the more it sounded to start like words. But it was short-lived, for the man fell back into wordless howling, gasping for breath inbetween as he writhed against the tree.

One.

He felt his senses dull; he was being pulled... towards the tree. He couldn't feel by what-- the distraction continued, threatening to break his trance. He needed to execute this attack, if they were to have a hope of surviving this encounter. Did physically attack him even make a difference? He hadn't paid any attention when he hacked down the wall of roots, but he didn't think that the tree's attacks had faltered at all.

Maybe the roots just weren't sensitive. Maybe, he thought, they needed to attack his body. Or worse, his spiritual presence. The thought made Julius shudder-- if it came to that, he supposed, then he would do what needed to be done. Their foe, however, had an advantage in that regard; the tree, whatever it was, didn't necessarily have to enter the Spirit realm alongside them. That meant, of course, that it could kill their living bodies... Leaving them wandering as spirits in this plane for the rest of eternity.

At this point, he'd stopped focusing the flow of energy to his sword. What was in there now could power a Spin Attack, but, ultimately, he decided to cancel the attack altogether.

His focus had been broken.

His senses returned to him as quickly as they'd left. All around him, skeletal hands grasped for bodies that weren't there. Underneath his own feet, however, partially-rotted hands grabbed around his boots, threatening to drag him towards the tree... Where, he predicted, he would left to much the same fate as those that came before them.

However, even then, he still had to fight on. But what would be the best way to harm this particular creature...? Luna's ice magic, he imagined, would be quite effective-- especially since she didn't necessarily have to close any distance to land an attack.

He chopped at the hands grabbing at his feet. He'd need... something more permanent to cease their motions. Silas, try as he might, attempted to form a barrier around them with his magics... The ground was too uneven to form a real barrier. It was a shame; perhaps, if it had worked, then they'd be able to do something with the hands within, and form a sort of barrier.

He looked towards the tree. They had a fair distance to go before their blade could reach. He looked to Horus, who was backing towards Silas with Luna. He moved backwards as well, though only for a small distance.

"We need a plan," was all Julius said over the chaos.

“Take the soldiers, I'll handle the roots.” Silas tried not to think of what a nightmare this mission had become. And yet, there was the faintest glimmer of hope. What if, against all odds, they managed to survive this battle? Would that mean an escape from this place?

He shook his head. First things first. If Julius was going to use his spin attack, they had to get close to a target first. And as long as the roots remained twisted together, that was going to be hard. Wherever they went, they pulled themselves up to form a wall, driving the group back. Silas slammed his hand down on a set of hands grasping for him, ignoring the cries and moans from underneath the wood. He turned to Julius, waving the man over.

“Seems like we have to hack a path to the tree first. As long as those roots are intact, they'll keep getting in our way.”

Silas glanced at the metal hand at his side. Perhaps there was a way he could stun the roots. Or at least make them more vulnerable to their attacks.

“I might… have an idea. Stay close.”

He focused his force into the floating limb, then balled it into a fist. With a leap, he brought it down as hard as he could on the roots. The wood cracked under the pressure, tiny fissures appearing in the bark, the roots around it whipping up at the force of the shockwave, stunned, leaving them wide open to attack.

All of a sudden the man broke out into screaming again. But this time, there was more sense to it. Silas stopped, face turning to the tree in disbelief.

'Ik leef noch sterf...'

That was a familiar language. A language he had not expected to hear here, of all places. The man groaned, more black ooze dribbling over his chin, down his neck. Silas could not believe his ears.

'Leven noch sterven, zo zal ik boeten...'

“H-he's speaking in ancient Hylian!”

Strained as the sound was, the Sheikah could clearly make out words now. But whether the words made sense was something else altogether. The man spoke of a punishment, but for what? Silas listened intently as he leapt over the roots. If he was going to translate for the others, he wanted to know the entire story.

Julius readied his blade for a strike at a shambling corpse closing in on their location. With a lunge and a shout, his blade tore through the decayed and pallid flesh of the creature before him. A trickle of blood oozed through ts thin, sheet-like skin, before it slumped over.

But there were more. How many teams had been lost to this place? He had heard of at least three, but there seemed to be so many more emerging from its vile roots.

The next thing he knew, Silas was shouting something about Ancient Hylian-- from the tree. It seemed ridiculous to him at first. Then again, this entire thing seemed rather ridiculous to him. He supposed, as he stabbed through another zombie before decapitating another on his backswing, that anything was possible when strange, dark magics were involved.

"We need to--" he was cut off midshout as another silent wail pierced his ears. There was... A presence. He tried reentering his body; he could feel it attempting to invade his body, vying for dominance over Julius' vessel. It was a strange feeling, having his soul and consciousness fight another being's soul; he wasn't fully disconnected, yet still he saw not through his eyes, but the eyes of his spirit. He knew already to keep his gaze cast to the rocky earth of the asteroid below him, lest he once more lay eyes upon the abomination that towered above him and all else within the realm.

While engaged in fighting off his spiritual invader, his body had not gone fully limp; but, if he did not succeed in fighting off this intruder soon, then the circumstance would become truly dire indeed...

Silas tried to remain tethered to his body, but keeping hold of his own spirit was a lot like keeping hold of a wet bar of soap. His spirit-self closed his eyes, trying to avoid looking at the abomination in the tree at all costs. If the tree was still speaking and not bellowing out insane roars, it was nigh impossible to tell over the rushing of his own blood in his ears. ...Wait, Silas could hear that? He let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding, relieved to find himself back in his body.

"Julius! The man is speaking, he's- Julius?" The older man did not respond. In fact, Julius just stood there, staring at the ground while the tree raged around him. "Julius!"

Had something happened to him while he was forced out of his body?

Silas saw a root creep up behind the guardsman, rising up into the air like a snake waiting to strike. He launched himself at it, slamming it back with his metal hand before hacking it off with his knife. The rest of the root seemingly withered, curling in on itself and disappearing between the mass of writhing bodies and other roots. But another almost instantly took its place, shooting up on Julius' other side. This one was much, much bigger, however. There was no way he could cut through this one with just his knife. And with Julius still not responding... Silas narrowed his eyes. He knew what to do. The metal hand was floating up in an instant, hovering next to his shoulder as he leapt forward, using his entire weight to push Julius out of the root's path, taking the blow instead.

The impact of the root forced the air from his lungs, Silas' cry of pain turned into a gasp as he hit the roots below. Decaying hands grabbed at his arms, his feet, his legs, gnarled fingers digging into skin where it was not covered by armour. The root twisted down, winding itself around the Sheikah's chest. If he did not want to get crushed or suffocate, he had to free himself, and fast.

"Julius!" Silas hacked and stabbed where he could, struggling to keep his limbs free. But with the root winding tighter and tighter around him, and the bodies below him still trying to drag him under... "Now would be a really good time to come back!"

Julius suddenly felt himself... He wasn't sure how to describe it. It was like controlling his body with his mind, only he wasn't there. It was like... Almost as if an instinct, he realized. Which, he supposed, after facing consistent danger after danger for nearly forty years, it might have become something along those lines.

But he had done it. He had executed a Spin Attack, sensing the danger around him autonomous of his body. Was his will to live just that strong? It was hard to say... But, even if his spirit were separated from his body, would his body even listen to this tree? Well, it had listened to the spirit before...

And this time, he was still at least halfway anchored to his corporeal form. So perhaps that was it... Maybe different portions of his spirit translated to different facets of his less than physical being. But, even with all of this going on about him, he was struggling with the immense presence attempting to force him from his own flesh-doll. His own body.

But it was his, not this monstrosity's play-thing. With a force of sheer power emanating from the very center of his being, he forced the creature from within his body.

A fierce roar left his mouth as he brought his blade down across a wall of roots. What had he been doing? It was impossible for him to recall, but he felt the adrenaline flowing through his veins. It was different, though: he knew he might die here. It wasn't just a battle, as everything before this had been. This was a contest for his own life.

He whirled around, slicing at a half-risen corpse. His blade cleanly sliced through its rotted flesh and bone, easily cleaving it in twain. He surveyed the situation. It was... Well, Silas was still alive, if gasping for air, and Horus was fine... Luna.

"Be careful! This thing can--" he struggled for words as he unleashed another Spin Attack, severing several roots that had sprung up around him. "--it can try and possess you! I don't know how I fought it off, but," he paused for a moment, bringing his shield to bear against the lash of a root, "just be careful!"

The man far above him roared, seemingly having regained enough of his voice to speak.
'...o Beval de Dievenkoning!'

Although Silas heard the words, he did not quite register them, not with the root trying to choke the life from him. He was vaguely aware of Julius moving, shouting, though whether the man had regained control of himself, he did not know. He was starting to see dots in his vision, barely even feeling the crushing pressure around his torso anymore. Everything had faded into a blur; his companions fighting for their lives, the man in the tree screaming on, the countless hands grasping at him. Silas dug his blade into the wood around him, kicking at the bodies below him. Then, suddenly, the root twitched and withered. Air filled the Sheikah's lungs when it retracted, the sweet relief of being able to breathe again was one of the best things he had felt since he had started this mission.

But his relief was short-lived.

With the root no longer holding on to him, there was nothing to stop the bodies between the root from tightening their grasp on him. In the blink of an eye, Silas had gone down between the writhing mass.

Suddenly, the hands were everywhere. In his hair, at his throat. Arms snaked around his limbs, pushing him down further into the groaning mass. A flash of something what might have once been a face passed by. A dull sensation made Silas realise his hand had been grabbed too. It was an uncomfortable feeling, to have something other than himself manipulate the artifical limb. Hands wrapped around the metal fingers, bodies pushed the hand down, away from Silas. He tried to pull it back, flex the fingers, ball it into a fist. Anything to keep control of it and keep it close. But the undead around him proved to be too much.

The hand went under, being torn from the Sheikah's side. It was like losing the limb all over again, even with the dull and distant sensations in his hand. The pain was still real.

Silas tried to scream, instead only finding cold and dead fingers digging into his mouth. He struggled, biting through tendons and flesh alike. But the more he struggled, the closer the mass seemed to press on him, the further it pulled him down. His breathing came out in gasps and sputters, whether from the pressure or pure terror. The Sheikah felt nothing at his side but a searing, crippling pain, the sensation overriding even the nails and teeth digging into his skin. He willed himself to fight back, to live another day and see this mission through to the end. But the weight was too heavy, the groans and screams in his ears deafening.

Silas saw the lonely light of the stars through the mass of grasping limbs and writhing bodies, a faint shimmer in his rapidly blurring vision.

With the last of his strength, he reached up, trying to grab at the light above him, forcing his remaining arm to move.

Silas' energies were growing weaker. He could feel it.

It wouldn't be allowed, however. They -- Horus, Luna, Silas, and himself -- would all be returning, alive, to report from their mission... Or escape to wherever they may yet wish to go. It was a perplexing scenario, but he needed to focus on one thing: rescuing one of his companions from the clutches of death.

He made long, confident strides through the dense growths of tumorous hands and vine alike, dodging out of the way of branches and volleys of spiritual energy, sheer willpower seeming to drown out the pain and suffering and horror that this thing produced. Slash after slash followed waves of slicing energy, tearing and destroying anything in his path.

But to describe what he felt as rage was inaccurate. It was less so anger, hatred, or whatever other malicious emotion you may ascribe, and more a sense of determination -- desperation. He was seeking to save the life of his companion beyond all else.

He had been sprinting to Silas' body the entire time, such was his desperation. He reached out to the Sheikah, hefting from the ground, over the shoulder of his shield arm. It was more efficient this way than restricting the mobility of his sword arm.

Another Spin Attack was unleashed. It tore through much, this time; he was prepared, he thought, to unleash it now. The Hurricane Spin. But he needed to get Silas to safety. Somewhere where he might be able to recover. He needed to ensure that Luna and Horus would be able to stave off the attacks of the tree for long enough that he might be able to store the necessary energy in the first place.

Five seconds. That was all he would need. His first priority, however, would be the ensured safety of his companions.

Everything was, quite literally, a blur. Silas’ body felt as if an enormous weight had been lifted, as if he might float away. And yet… His breath came back with a cough and a sputter. His ribs hurt. In fact, everything hurt. It was an odd kind of pain, dull and distant, as if it was not really happening to him. The Sheikah’s mind felt similarly detached.

Silas groggily opened his eyes, vision still blurry.

Roots passed by overhead, offering glimpses of something much more terrible hidden beneath them. Somehow, it felt wrong. That was not where roots were supposed to be, of that much his mind was sure. Silas closed his eyes again, resting his cheek against cool metal. ...Was that armour? He opened his eyes again. Yes, it was. A familiar black suit of armour. Julius.

A particularly rough movement caused his head to clang against the armour. It hurt, but it also cleared his mind of all doubt.

He was still alive.

Suddenly, it all came back to him. The grasping hands, teeth and nails digging into his skin, dragging him under, decayed bodies pressing in on him from all sides. The suffocating pressure, the deafening groans, his hand… The pain of the missing limb returned in full force. His hand was missing. Silas panicked, but did not have the energy to scream. Not feeling the hand at his side was wrong, sickening. The Twister had never warned him what would happen if he lost it, the Sheikah had not thought it possible. He closed his eyes, forcing himself to stay calm. It wasn’t over yet. He was in uninmaginable agony, yes, but alive.

Julius slowed down eventually, lowering Silas to his side. The movement made the Sheikah dizzy and he leant heavily on his companion, not trusting his own legs to carry his weight. It was hard to stay calm, as panic over his mising limb kept rising, pushing his other, calmer thoughts from his mind. Silas took a deep breath through clenched teeth. Focus, he told himself. There was a battle to finish. He would make a poor Sheikah if he gave up now.

“I owe you one...” His voice was rough, pained and barely louder than a whisper as he looked at the guardsman. Without Julius, his mission had very likely ended between the mass of corpses, eventually becoming one of them. Silas closed his eyes when another surge of pain went through him, fingers clutching at the empty, torn-up sleeve at his side. “My hand...” As hard as he tried, panic was clear in his voice. “They- they took it. Tore it off-” Silas pressed his lips close, bile rising in his throat at the thought of it. No, don’t think of it. Think only of finishing the mission.

A pair of feet touched down next to him, followed by a familiar voice.

Silas slowly opened his eyes when he heard Horus speak, red eyes focusing on the younger man. He took a deep breath, pushing through the pain, feeling the chaos in his head clear little by little.

Somewhere, far away, he could still feel something pulling at him.

“I think… I need a moment too.”