Why he returned, he didn't know. The Below seemed so bland, so empty, so horribly utterly wretched compared to that of this new land, of this Novus... but it also seemed familiar, tugging on his newfound heart in a way foreign and all but impossible to resist. So he had returned, drawn like a moth to black flame, to the deep and darkness of the cave, to the closing walls and the silence of hooves muffled by dank air. Deeper and down he went, spiraling into the familiar blackness, waiting for the burden of the godsoul, the feel of his mantle about his shoulders, the ceasing of the beat pulsating in his breast. But as deep as he went, just to the point where he wasn't wholly certain of his way back, nothing changed.

   Still his heart beat.

   Still his breath came.

   Still he lived.

   Perturbed by the lack of change to his newfound form, the crowned stallion once more ascended from the depths of the cave, back to the soft kiss of light... but he had dwelt in the dark longer than he had thought, had gone deeper than he had thought into the depths of the earth. The entrance, once framed by midday sunlight, now was dark, rampaging shadows in the sky with flashes of a light so brilliant and a noise so thunderous it made him start in place. Something splattered from the sky above, the scent of the air somehow fresh yet dank, water and earth mixing. Once more the sky burned and the air tore with sound, and he jumped once more, stepping back from the opening as this brand-new world seemed to end before his very eyes. It was chaos, it was beauty, it was madness and it was elegance.

   It was as he backed away that he became aware of another, of a second soft breath beneath the pitter-patter of rushing water, of the soft scuff of second hooves shifting weight. In his wonder, in his curiosity, he had not noticed the pale form draped like a ghost against the side of the cave, her eyes too turned to the apocalypse outside. She was pale, paler than anything he had seen before, so much so that she glowed ephemeral in the low light, gentle antlers gracing her skull and making his own jagged crown seem brutish and grotesque in comparison.

   For a moment, he stood in silent regard of her, of the cacophony outside, debating whether to leave her to her solitude and thoughts and return deeper into the cave... but the gentle trickle of water caressing his hooves decided for him. Alive or Undying, going into the depths again would be a possible death sentence if the water rose. "There is a small offshoot, it rises but does not breach to the surface. Perhaps it is wise to move there?" He says finally, softly, his eyes unable to help but return to the din outside, his body twitching with the instinctive urge to jump as once more thunder boomed it's rage.

the godslayer