— Red-robed observer
[Momo]
The first thing I felt was cold.
Not the kind of cold you get from tiled floors or a breeze sneaking through an open window. This was deep, bone-humming cold, like the ground itself had forgotten how to live.
I blinked into darkness—but not the suffocating kind. No, I could still see. Shadows weren't hidden from me. They clung to the walls like wet ink, curling around the bars of a cage that was far too large for my tiny body.
The metal beneath me stung like ice. I jerked away, only to bump my head against iron bars. The smell hit me next—rust, old fur, decay. The heavy scent of unwashed bodies and something... wrong.
Bitter. Chemical. Fear.
I tried to steady my breath, but each inhale was a lesson in discomfort. The air was dry, yet every scent clung like mist. Straw matted in old blood. Faint traces of burnt herbs. Something sour and metallic, like the breath of something that had been dead for too long.
I looked around, wide-eyed.
The chamber I was in was carved into the rock itself. I could see where claws—or tools—had scored the stone. Chains hung like decorations. The ceiling was lost in shadow, but I could feel it watching me. The entire place reeked of ritual. Of pain.
My cage rattled slightly as I moved. I pushed a paw through the bars and tried the latch—click, clack, clink—but it didn't budge. My pads scraped against the locking mechanism, but I had neither the strength nor the leverage.
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A small whimper escaped my throat.
I hated it.
I hated that sound. I hated these cold metal bars. I hated being helpless. I hated being hungry.
I shivered. Curled into myself like a kit. I pressed my face into my own fur, trying to mask the stench of this place with something familiar. My body trembled, not just from the chill—but from the silence.
Until it broke.
"Little shadow... what are you?"The voice slithered in from the dark like oiled down glass.
I jolted upright, fur standing on end, ears back. I hissed—an instinct. The only thing I knew to do. A sound of defiance from something too small to be brave.
The figure emerged from the gloom, robes whispering like dry leaves. Red robes. A hood draped in black veils obscured its face, but as it moved closer, I could see—clearly—snout, fur, twitching whiskers.
An animal.
Not just walking like a human.
Speaking like one.
"Your kind rarely survives the crossing," it purred. "But you... you have potential."
I didn't understand the words. But I understood the tone. The threat.
I backed into the farthest corner, claws digging into the bars, teeth bared.
The figure moved fast. Too fast.
I yowled as I felt a sudden jab in my neck—a sting like fire laced with frost. I twisted, kicked and clawed at it—too slow. A canary liquid filled the syringe, and I saw it empty into me.
I could smell a faint hint of peppermint on him. Just like Father's toothpaste I secretly tried back at home.
My legs gave way. The chamber swam, twisting and melting like wax near a flame. The shadows pulsed. The red robe blurred.
And then, I heard it.
A lullaby. Soft. Off-key. Almost... gentle.
"Sleep, little wanderer,
hush your wild soul...
The Void will unmake you,
and make you whole..."
And everything slipped into a warm, smothering black.
I dreamed of a window.
A hand.
A bowl of warm milk.
A voice humming in the kitchen.
And just before it all vanished—
A whisper, not from memory... but from something waiting in the dark:
"Vaeldrin."