As sudden as a flicker Haetia had gone from being entrapped in a ruined temple to alone in a leaden frozen wasteland. He fell through the frigid air and onto the thick padding of snow beneath and had the fall been any greater he would’ve surely have injured himself beyond the mere blemishes and throbbing aches he garnered.

An object slid down his torso as he sat up – a locket.

Haetia picked it up by its thick thread, wiping the snow off to get a better look.

“Isn’t this…that oaf’s necklace?”

The ivory prince fiddled with the latch but the locket refused to open. Groaning, he reluctantly threw it over his head and around his neck then finally mustered the strength to lift himself up from the heavy snow.

Cupping his hands around his lips he tried to shout over the winter storm, “Linias!! Revi!?....ugh what was his–Myrin!!”

Only an echo of his own voice returned.

This had to be a joke. Some kind of illusion. He wouldn’t leave him on his own. He couldn’t leave him on his own. He was bound to him by right!

The snow clung to his calves as he waded through, falling forward a few times from its weight until he reached more shallow ground.

His eyes quivered.

“...Linias?...”

With how dense the storm was he could barely see a few feet in front of him and now he was all but grateful he was invulnerable to the cold, but that was the least of his concerns. No food. No shelter. No way of knowing where he was or where to go.

Haetia grit his teeth.

“LINIAS THIS ISN’T FUCKING FUNNY!”

The echo returned.

He vehemently shook his head.

“No-nononononononono this can’t be happening he wouldn’t-he wouldn’t–” His panic snapped into a scorn. “No-you know what? Fine! I can fucking handle myself. You’re useless anyways.”

First thing’s first, he had to get his bearings.

Haetia turned in a full circle. Trees. Trees. Some burnt trees. More burnt trees. Some wilted trees. More wilted trees. Shrubs. Branches. Roots. Logs. No sign of a pathway anywhere.

Panic started to set in again making him dishevel his long white hair.

“...Water, right? You find a river or something…People live near water?”

He tried to imagine himself back when he was a child. Sitting down by a desk, the older Linias instructing him on one thing or another then immediately he groaned and erased the memory from his mind.

“Ugh.” He retched. “I don’t want to think about him right now, that fucking–”

The storm howled, tossing his locks and cardigan from one direction to the next.

“I’d much rather find somewhere to wait out this storm. There’s no way I can look for anything if I can’t even see five feet in front of me.”

Groaning again, Haetia walked straight forward in the hopes of finding something.

It would take all the strength he had just to lift his foot from the snow and take the next step and after walking for no more than five minutes he was already heaving in exhaustion. The dry, frigid air slammed against his body as if trying to propel him backwards and undo what little progress he had made. Just as he thought to stop and rest for a while, a low wilted branch caught hold of his cardigan and tugged him back.

“Of fucking course it’s the precious nature you love so much-!” He tugged in the opposing direction, first lightly to avoid tearing it then with another exhale he tried to delicately pick it off.

It was entangled by the hem and thus the threads were starting to unravel. Even when he tried to snap the loose strings they would just create more and worsen the problem, so he went back to violently jerking to dislodge the fabric. In his final tug, his forearm scraped against the branch as the cardigan tore free, leaving a thin stinging strip of red.

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Haetia held the wound, starting as a whine and ending as a scream, “Hhhaaaa FUCKKK THAT HURTS!!!”

He rubbed at it hoping that the pain would somehow vanish from that but it only made it worse.

“AHHHHHH!!”

Then he waved it in the air as if that’d help either.

“Piece of fucking shit branches and fucking nature and fucking–! UGHH!!”

Haetia slumped onto the snow, pulling the hem of his cardigan up to assess the damage. If it had a matching tear on the other side it would’ve looked more like an intentional slit and if he had the tools he would’ve made it so.

“Ruined my clothes.” He almost pouted if not for the scald in his arm distracting him.

The ferns creaked and cried at the unrelenting wrenches in every direction from the blizzard. Out of fear that the fragile things would crack and crash, Haetia forced himself back on his feet to continue his search for shelter. Anything to get him away from this forest for even a second.

He gazed down into the unwelcoming void of the dark forest. Occasionally specks of snow seemingly formed around a body just for him to get his hopes up and disappointed all over again.

“They…probably got captured. Ugh…I would much rather be sitting in a cell than out here. What the hell was he thinking that–” Haetia shook his head again, trying to forget about his retainer as much as possible. It was his fault he was in this situation. If not for him, he wouldn’t have gotten hurt, torn his clothes, nor be wandering in the middle of nowhere.

A sudden gust of wind blew from behind. He had thought it to be just more of the tosses and turns of the snowstorm, so originally he ignored it and continued on.

That is, until he heard sinking snow that could only be attributed to footsteps, and those that were much heavier than his own.

He whipped his head back, unsure whether he should be frightened or overjoyed.

“Linias?!” Haetia shouted again. “Revi?! Myrin?!”

…No response.

“Anyone!!!???”

……No response.

The footsteps grew louder.

He couldn’t make out a body with how dark it was and he was beginning to think it might not be worth finding out.

Haetia’s steps in the opposing direction grew faster, and so did the ones following him.

Two steps at a time, then three, then four, until he was sprinting away from the thunderous echoes that closed in on him.

Rather than maintaining the same distance away as it always had, the darkness before him seemed to get closer and closer and he only hoped upon hope that he wasn’t charging straight into a dead end.

Several long, thin ebony darts flew past him, some slitting his skin while others pierced through his cardigan in an attempt to halt his fleeing. And soon enough it struck him directly in his back, the force causing him to stumble and fall face first into the snow.

Haetia’s eyes shot up in front of him then quickly behind. Whatever it was he could start to make out an enormous body off in the distance, and in front was the foot of a towering mountain–a cave only a room’s length away.

His body and mind fought between trying to remove the object or getting back up as soon as possible and continuing to run to possible safety, ending with him scrambling to do both. The overwhelming adrenaline rushing through his veins encompassed his disgust towards pain as he plucked the object out – a thorn. And not just any thorn, one he had seen before. He knew he did but couldn’t remember where.

Just as the flash of a memory came to him, the deafening footsteps that had been chasing him finally came into view.

First the head of a man surrounded by a blood orange mane, then its lion body and scaled wings, with a glimpse of a scorpion’s tail waving from behind. It was mangled in scars, enough that its fur was thin and sparse.

Initially that didn’t jog his memory clean but the enormous scar beneath its jaw finally made it click. A manticore – and not just any manticore, the same one that had attacked him and Linias when they were younger.

Before it could get any closer Haetia’s limbs scrambled on instinct to make for the cave and just as he ducked into it a searing burn shot up from his left calf. The blood starved beast sank its jaws into his skin, trying to jerk against his hold to remove him from the cave.

Tears started to well in his eyes from the surging pain as he kicked and screamed against the beast, slamming his free heel into its face to free himself. “LET GO! Let go of me!!!”

Finally his heel struck well and firm, the thin end hitting its eye and causing its jaws to relinquish its vile grip. Without hesitation he crawled further into the cave, as far as he was able to avoid even the slightest possibility of the manticore reaching its talons under and seizing him again.

The manticore’s monstrous roar trembled the cave, pebbles raining in light thuds. It ravenously scraped against the entrance with its claws then slammed its body against the outer wall while Haetia curled his knees against his chest and held palms over his ears, clenching his eyelids shut. Denying its existence as if it will disappear.

The cave boomed and quaked yet showed no signs of relenting. And eventually, after what felt like an eternity, the manticore had stopped. He heard the beast growl, then the resounding flaps of its wings as it flew away.

Blood trickled down his calf, an array of punctures decorating his ichor soaked limb. He held his tremoring knees tighter, burying his face into them. Only the howling gusts of the storm could be heard alongside his oral respirations. Reality finally crept in.

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