At the centre of the island of Yulareil, buried deep beneath the hallowed sanctum of Ghryilth, Canthus keeps his greatest secret hidden away where even his own cultists will seldom discover it.
The amazing Madness_demon helped design my goat's most recent character sheet. It was an honour to be able to commission them again for this project! Expanding on an aspect of Canthus' origins I rarely get to touch.
And Marek_Young has been asking a lot about my lore lately, investigating the island and the many secrets it holds. Perhaps he now has some of the answers he was seeking?
*****
For such a long time, Marek's only home had been the stars from whence he came.
Staring up at the night sky through the window, the stars outside were ones he was only just beginning to become familiar with. Cerunae was in ascension over the island, bathing the forests and valleys below in an indigo twilight. While Maddrius was drifting further towards the horizon, the scarlet glow of its accretion disk receding and tinting the landscape towards purple hues where its waning light overlapped with the wavelengths of Cerunae's spreading influence. Judging from their positions the Byakhee equated it to be nightfall. Or as close to that measurement of time as one could get here on Yulareil.
This island had become his home now. There was still so much he was trying to learn, from the names of the different stars and how to tell the time here based on the different spectrums of colour they would cast across the world... to the nature of the realm itself, and how it was he'd ended up here on that fateful day. The day he'd lost everything only to then regain all of it and more from a most unexpected source.
He wasn't the same person he'd been back then. Looking down at his body, he still sometimes marvelled at just how much he'd changed. At how he'd gone from being a wolf with some dragon heritage to the sleek behemoth that he was, with powerful wings and biology that allowed him to soar through the infinite gulf of space as naturally as a bird through the skies. When he flexed his muscles, veins flowing with liquid gold bulged out beneath his armoured scales. He felt powerful now in a way he never had before. Like if he'd only had this same strength back then, the ones who had hunted him never would have been able to hurt him so.
His new Master had understood. He'd told Marek how he'd been hunted, too; in his case for his fleece and the limited immortality it could bring. The dragon's heart had bled to hear the tales of how his rescuer had suffered hurt the way he had. How he was actually bound to this realm, beautiful though it was, and could never truly escape it. The goat always waved away any talk of setting him free, saying that breaking the seal upon him couldn't be done. But privately, Marek held a fantasy that someday he would uncover the culprit who'd so cruelly sealed the goat away and set his new inspiration free to roam the infinite multiverse as he pleased.
Bowing his head, he inhaled a deep breath to steel himself against the painful memories. A subtle bouquet of maple incense and honeyed notes wafting into his nostrils. His muscles starting to relax almost immediately as he centred himself the way he'd been trained to do. Ears twitching as they focused their attention on the babbling background noise of the nearby fountain. Turning his head, he let his eyes roam around the interior of the sanctum, taking in the sight of the elegant ivory columns supporting the arched ceiling while feeling the coolness of the reflective marble floor beneath his bare paws.
Seeking out the fountain, Marek made his way down the corridor, making sure to do so quietly. Like a library or a church, the sanctum hallways of Ghryilth had a warm silence about them that made one reluctant to break it. The quiet wrapped around him like an invisible blanket and made him feel safe. There was nothing here that could hurt the Byakhee. And it reminded him of the times back when he'd been a wolf, of standing in front of a window during a thunderstorm, watching the rain lashing and the wind howling outside and feeling a tremendous sense of comfort knowing that he had a roof over his head. Such shelter had been hard to come by back in those times. It made him never want to take for granted what the sanctum offered him now.
Passing by the looming statues of other members of the order, among them a few he recognized as Byakhee like himself, beneath a domed rise in the ceiling up ahead, he spotted the statue of the Golden Goat himself. Honeyed liquid overflowed from his hands and into a pool around his hooves, forming a fountain of the miraculous golden nectar that was the lifeblood of the realm and all who lived there. The goat's gentle features were rendered in alabaster, arms held out in open offering. Marek smiled at the sight of it. He often used the fountain as a landmark while navigating the labyrinthine temple halls. But on some days, he came here just to reaffirm his confidence that his past was truly behind him, just the way that he was doing now.
"Hello Canthus," he spoke sheepishly to the statue. "I'm back from my exploring... I went to see Earth, like you suggested, but the place is a bit of a mess right now. Feels good being home." Embarrassed, he glanced around the halls, reassuring himself that he was alone. He didn't know if the goat could hear him through the statue- but somewhat goofily, he found himself always talking to it anyway whenever he was here.
As he scoured his surroundings, his eyes picked up on something that didn't belong. A shredded tatter of burgundy clothing. He recognized the golden stitching on it immediately as being from the robes of the order, the same ones he was wearing now. But what was most unusual was the way it was wedged underneath the stone steps around the fountain. That... how could that have happened? Confusion turning to curiosity, he crouched down and ripped a piece off it. Lifting the rag up to his nose, closing his eyes, he took a deep sniff, thankful that though he no longer looked like a wolf, his sense of smell hadn't diminished in the slightest.
This scent was familiar. He knew who it belonged to, but the name took a few more seconds to remember. Albert? Albert, yes! He was one of Canthus' hounds. They patrolled the forests and the streets in much the same way he and his kin oversaw the skies. And he vaguely remembered an evening he'd spent with the canine where everyone in attendance, Canthus included, had rolled around small polyhedral shapes to determine the twists and turns of an unfolding story. Apparently, it was an Earth custom that the hound wanted to keep alive. But outside of that eccentricity, he couldn't say he knew the hound very well.
"But how did you get down there?" Marek mused aloud to the scrap of cloth. Crouching down, he laid his head against the marble step where he'd found it. Closing his eyes, he pressed his ear to the cool stone and rapped it with his knuckles. Feeling through the vibrations that there was... emptiness on the other side. Eyes widening, muscles tensing, he sat up as he began to suspect he'd found a secret entrance. Balancing on the balls of his feet, he started feeling around the steps for some kind of-
Click. Tick... tick... tick...
There was a whirring of what sounded like clockwork wheels as he hurriedly stood up and stepped back, watching with trepidation as a small section of the fountain steps lowered into the floor, creating a narrow staircase that descended down into a lightless abyss. His mind was racing. On the one hand, he knew that Ghryilth was full of secret passageways and rooms that existed in defiance of the laws of physics as he'd known them back home. He'd made a point of exploring, looking for them, and having fun in doing so.
On the other hand... the moment he'd set eyes on the passage, a chill had run through him. Here, now, standing in the middle of Ghryilth... he felt the icy fingers of fear run down his spine for the first time since his arrival as a new initiate. He couldn't find the right words to describe the sensation crawling across his scales he felt emanating from the open passageway. A nameless dread had wrapped around his heart and was telling him to turn around. He'd already committed himself, sacrificed so much for the goat. There was perhaps nothing quite as frightening as thinking you knew everything about a person you trusted and then learning that they still held secrets.
He even started to turn his body away... but then hesitated. If Albert had been down there, then surely it was safe? Enough, at least, for a quick peek. He was part of this cult now after all. If the hound knew what was down there, then he wanted to know too.
Bracing himself for the unknown, he descended the chill steps down into the depths. The sudden sharp drop in temperature caused his breath to mist up in front of him. It was pitch black when he felt the staircase begin twisting around into a spiral. The Byakhee bracing his hands against the walls and slowly navigating his way by touch alone into the darkness. The long journey giving his active imagination plenty of time to speculate on what waited for him at the very bottom. And seeming to confirm his speculation that this secret passage was set apart from the others he'd explored so far.
It was only once he'd been going straight down for long enough to question if the stairs were bewitched to keep going on forever that he started to see light at the very bottom. This light held no comfort, however, being instead an unsettlingly eerie greenish glow. As he emerged out into a vast underground network of caverns, he located the source, eyes widening with surprise as he took in a sharp gasp. It was an underground luminous lake stretching out for miles before him, the waters unnervingly placid and still without a single ripple along the surface. The dragon found himself standing on a tiny spit of rocky shore, jutting away from which was a small wooden dock where someone had moored a boat, the vessel's figurehead bearing a crude resemblance to Canthus' own horned visage.
More unnervingly though, a shiver ran down Marek's spine as a flicker of movement caught his attention. A splash on the surface of the otherwise calm lake that he only caught out of the corner of his eye. A roiling feeling in his stomach telling him that he was being watched.
Feeling as if he'd come too far to simply turn back now, Marek boarded the vessel, grabbing the single available oar and pushed away from the shore, staring around in awe at the sheer size of the cavern. It occurred to him that after being granted wings, he'd never asked before what lay underneath the island, so fixated had he been with the heavens above. The pallid light from the water glinted off what looked like veins of gold ore running through the walls and ceilings. Alongside, more concerningly, deep scratch marks that brought to mind titanic claws. Sailing out into the middle of the unnaturally placid lake, he imagined this place to be like what other cultures called the underworld.
No sooner had the thought occurred to him than the waters around him began to stir. The faint ripples created by the movement of his boat were swallowed up by waves where there had been none before. Beneath the surface, the light became distorted by the presence of a shadow. Something vast in size, long and serpentine in nature, and moving directly towards him. His watcher making itself known.
Growing alarmed at the sight of this new threat, Marek braced himself for a quick leap and takeoff into the air. But not before the creature's head rose up out of the milky depths, a vast black sea serpent crowned with spines and devoid of any visible eyes. Mouth opening and roaring- the Byakhee lifting his arms to shield his face and try to block the sanity-shattering noise from his ears. Squinting up at the beast, the golden light shining from it's slime-filled jaws nearly blinded him. But it was the glow itself that gave Marek reason to pause. It was the same as the glow that ran through his own veins. And the eyeless serpent... though utterly dwarfing him in size, he'd seen something like it before on a much smaller scale.
"C-Canthus...?" he tried calling out, voice drowned out by the hissing of the vast serpent. "Canthus! Is that... is this you?" This time his yelling seemed to give the sea monster pause. Twisting it's head around, like it was squinting at him, trying to work him out. The water rippled and splashed as two more hydra heads surfaced, now having the Byakhee surrounded on his boat, scrutinizing what they thought had simply been an intruder... not a familiar presence.
The vessel shook violently as something underwater- presumably a fourth head- grabbed onto the rudder. Marek clung on with his toeclaws as the boat was dragged at a much faster speed through the water, the serpents easily keeping up even as it accelerated. Robe flapping in the wind as he skimmed along the surface, the dragon crouched down and grabbed hold for dear life.
Only when it had started to slow down, the boat shaking slightly as whatever held it let go, did Marek stand up and open his eyes. His jaw dropped when he beheld the sight of what now loomed over him.
A writhing tangle of inky black sea serpents, jaws snapping and hissing at the air, connected with the body of a colossal four-armed titan, bound by blessed chains bearing the mark of the Elder Sign that looped around his throat and affixed to clamps around his wrists. He towered over Marek, ancient and terrible, golden light blazing through the cracks of a caprine skull that seemed to have been carved with runes and occult patterns. To even look upon him made Marek's head throb painfully and his surroundings spin in the throes of vertigo, the mere presence of the entity pressing down against his mind like a thousand tons of weight. But monstrous though he was, and though Marek had to fight to even look towards him- the sinuous black serpents, the bone-white mask, and the golden fur covering his torso were all quickly recognizable to the cultist.
"Master..." Marek called out, sinking to his knees before the eldritch horror. His eyes, unable to look upon the entity directly without his whole body recoiling, instead fixated on the chains that bound his Master underground. "Is this what you meant, when you told me you'd been bound to this realm? Who did this to you?"
The yellow light shining through Canthus' mask of bone intensified. His voice, at once familiar yet distorted and booming in volume, projected itself directly into the dragon's mind so loudly it felt as if his skull might crack open under the force of it.
"THESE CHAINS ARE OF MY OWN MAKING. THE SEAL MUST NOT BE BROKEN."
The amazing Madness_demon helped design my goat's most recent character sheet. It was an honour to be able to commission them again for this project! Expanding on an aspect of Canthus' origins I rarely get to touch.
And Marek_Young has been asking a lot about my lore lately, investigating the island and the many secrets it holds. Perhaps he now has some of the answers he was seeking?
*****
For such a long time, Marek's only home had been the stars from whence he came.
Staring up at the night sky through the window, the stars outside were ones he was only just beginning to become familiar with. Cerunae was in ascension over the island, bathing the forests and valleys below in an indigo twilight. While Maddrius was drifting further towards the horizon, the scarlet glow of its accretion disk receding and tinting the landscape towards purple hues where its waning light overlapped with the wavelengths of Cerunae's spreading influence. Judging from their positions the Byakhee equated it to be nightfall. Or as close to that measurement of time as one could get here on Yulareil.
This island had become his home now. There was still so much he was trying to learn, from the names of the different stars and how to tell the time here based on the different spectrums of colour they would cast across the world... to the nature of the realm itself, and how it was he'd ended up here on that fateful day. The day he'd lost everything only to then regain all of it and more from a most unexpected source.
He wasn't the same person he'd been back then. Looking down at his body, he still sometimes marvelled at just how much he'd changed. At how he'd gone from being a wolf with some dragon heritage to the sleek behemoth that he was, with powerful wings and biology that allowed him to soar through the infinite gulf of space as naturally as a bird through the skies. When he flexed his muscles, veins flowing with liquid gold bulged out beneath his armoured scales. He felt powerful now in a way he never had before. Like if he'd only had this same strength back then, the ones who had hunted him never would have been able to hurt him so.
His new Master had understood. He'd told Marek how he'd been hunted, too; in his case for his fleece and the limited immortality it could bring. The dragon's heart had bled to hear the tales of how his rescuer had suffered hurt the way he had. How he was actually bound to this realm, beautiful though it was, and could never truly escape it. The goat always waved away any talk of setting him free, saying that breaking the seal upon him couldn't be done. But privately, Marek held a fantasy that someday he would uncover the culprit who'd so cruelly sealed the goat away and set his new inspiration free to roam the infinite multiverse as he pleased.
Bowing his head, he inhaled a deep breath to steel himself against the painful memories. A subtle bouquet of maple incense and honeyed notes wafting into his nostrils. His muscles starting to relax almost immediately as he centred himself the way he'd been trained to do. Ears twitching as they focused their attention on the babbling background noise of the nearby fountain. Turning his head, he let his eyes roam around the interior of the sanctum, taking in the sight of the elegant ivory columns supporting the arched ceiling while feeling the coolness of the reflective marble floor beneath his bare paws.
Seeking out the fountain, Marek made his way down the corridor, making sure to do so quietly. Like a library or a church, the sanctum hallways of Ghryilth had a warm silence about them that made one reluctant to break it. The quiet wrapped around him like an invisible blanket and made him feel safe. There was nothing here that could hurt the Byakhee. And it reminded him of the times back when he'd been a wolf, of standing in front of a window during a thunderstorm, watching the rain lashing and the wind howling outside and feeling a tremendous sense of comfort knowing that he had a roof over his head. Such shelter had been hard to come by back in those times. It made him never want to take for granted what the sanctum offered him now.
Passing by the looming statues of other members of the order, among them a few he recognized as Byakhee like himself, beneath a domed rise in the ceiling up ahead, he spotted the statue of the Golden Goat himself. Honeyed liquid overflowed from his hands and into a pool around his hooves, forming a fountain of the miraculous golden nectar that was the lifeblood of the realm and all who lived there. The goat's gentle features were rendered in alabaster, arms held out in open offering. Marek smiled at the sight of it. He often used the fountain as a landmark while navigating the labyrinthine temple halls. But on some days, he came here just to reaffirm his confidence that his past was truly behind him, just the way that he was doing now.
"Hello Canthus," he spoke sheepishly to the statue. "I'm back from my exploring... I went to see Earth, like you suggested, but the place is a bit of a mess right now. Feels good being home." Embarrassed, he glanced around the halls, reassuring himself that he was alone. He didn't know if the goat could hear him through the statue- but somewhat goofily, he found himself always talking to it anyway whenever he was here.
As he scoured his surroundings, his eyes picked up on something that didn't belong. A shredded tatter of burgundy clothing. He recognized the golden stitching on it immediately as being from the robes of the order, the same ones he was wearing now. But what was most unusual was the way it was wedged underneath the stone steps around the fountain. That... how could that have happened? Confusion turning to curiosity, he crouched down and ripped a piece off it. Lifting the rag up to his nose, closing his eyes, he took a deep sniff, thankful that though he no longer looked like a wolf, his sense of smell hadn't diminished in the slightest.
This scent was familiar. He knew who it belonged to, but the name took a few more seconds to remember. Albert? Albert, yes! He was one of Canthus' hounds. They patrolled the forests and the streets in much the same way he and his kin oversaw the skies. And he vaguely remembered an evening he'd spent with the canine where everyone in attendance, Canthus included, had rolled around small polyhedral shapes to determine the twists and turns of an unfolding story. Apparently, it was an Earth custom that the hound wanted to keep alive. But outside of that eccentricity, he couldn't say he knew the hound very well.
"But how did you get down there?" Marek mused aloud to the scrap of cloth. Crouching down, he laid his head against the marble step where he'd found it. Closing his eyes, he pressed his ear to the cool stone and rapped it with his knuckles. Feeling through the vibrations that there was... emptiness on the other side. Eyes widening, muscles tensing, he sat up as he began to suspect he'd found a secret entrance. Balancing on the balls of his feet, he started feeling around the steps for some kind of-
Click. Tick... tick... tick...
There was a whirring of what sounded like clockwork wheels as he hurriedly stood up and stepped back, watching with trepidation as a small section of the fountain steps lowered into the floor, creating a narrow staircase that descended down into a lightless abyss. His mind was racing. On the one hand, he knew that Ghryilth was full of secret passageways and rooms that existed in defiance of the laws of physics as he'd known them back home. He'd made a point of exploring, looking for them, and having fun in doing so.
On the other hand... the moment he'd set eyes on the passage, a chill had run through him. Here, now, standing in the middle of Ghryilth... he felt the icy fingers of fear run down his spine for the first time since his arrival as a new initiate. He couldn't find the right words to describe the sensation crawling across his scales he felt emanating from the open passageway. A nameless dread had wrapped around his heart and was telling him to turn around. He'd already committed himself, sacrificed so much for the goat. There was perhaps nothing quite as frightening as thinking you knew everything about a person you trusted and then learning that they still held secrets.
He even started to turn his body away... but then hesitated. If Albert had been down there, then surely it was safe? Enough, at least, for a quick peek. He was part of this cult now after all. If the hound knew what was down there, then he wanted to know too.
Bracing himself for the unknown, he descended the chill steps down into the depths. The sudden sharp drop in temperature caused his breath to mist up in front of him. It was pitch black when he felt the staircase begin twisting around into a spiral. The Byakhee bracing his hands against the walls and slowly navigating his way by touch alone into the darkness. The long journey giving his active imagination plenty of time to speculate on what waited for him at the very bottom. And seeming to confirm his speculation that this secret passage was set apart from the others he'd explored so far.
It was only once he'd been going straight down for long enough to question if the stairs were bewitched to keep going on forever that he started to see light at the very bottom. This light held no comfort, however, being instead an unsettlingly eerie greenish glow. As he emerged out into a vast underground network of caverns, he located the source, eyes widening with surprise as he took in a sharp gasp. It was an underground luminous lake stretching out for miles before him, the waters unnervingly placid and still without a single ripple along the surface. The dragon found himself standing on a tiny spit of rocky shore, jutting away from which was a small wooden dock where someone had moored a boat, the vessel's figurehead bearing a crude resemblance to Canthus' own horned visage.
More unnervingly though, a shiver ran down Marek's spine as a flicker of movement caught his attention. A splash on the surface of the otherwise calm lake that he only caught out of the corner of his eye. A roiling feeling in his stomach telling him that he was being watched.
Feeling as if he'd come too far to simply turn back now, Marek boarded the vessel, grabbing the single available oar and pushed away from the shore, staring around in awe at the sheer size of the cavern. It occurred to him that after being granted wings, he'd never asked before what lay underneath the island, so fixated had he been with the heavens above. The pallid light from the water glinted off what looked like veins of gold ore running through the walls and ceilings. Alongside, more concerningly, deep scratch marks that brought to mind titanic claws. Sailing out into the middle of the unnaturally placid lake, he imagined this place to be like what other cultures called the underworld.
No sooner had the thought occurred to him than the waters around him began to stir. The faint ripples created by the movement of his boat were swallowed up by waves where there had been none before. Beneath the surface, the light became distorted by the presence of a shadow. Something vast in size, long and serpentine in nature, and moving directly towards him. His watcher making itself known.
Growing alarmed at the sight of this new threat, Marek braced himself for a quick leap and takeoff into the air. But not before the creature's head rose up out of the milky depths, a vast black sea serpent crowned with spines and devoid of any visible eyes. Mouth opening and roaring- the Byakhee lifting his arms to shield his face and try to block the sanity-shattering noise from his ears. Squinting up at the beast, the golden light shining from it's slime-filled jaws nearly blinded him. But it was the glow itself that gave Marek reason to pause. It was the same as the glow that ran through his own veins. And the eyeless serpent... though utterly dwarfing him in size, he'd seen something like it before on a much smaller scale.
"C-Canthus...?" he tried calling out, voice drowned out by the hissing of the vast serpent. "Canthus! Is that... is this you?" This time his yelling seemed to give the sea monster pause. Twisting it's head around, like it was squinting at him, trying to work him out. The water rippled and splashed as two more hydra heads surfaced, now having the Byakhee surrounded on his boat, scrutinizing what they thought had simply been an intruder... not a familiar presence.
The vessel shook violently as something underwater- presumably a fourth head- grabbed onto the rudder. Marek clung on with his toeclaws as the boat was dragged at a much faster speed through the water, the serpents easily keeping up even as it accelerated. Robe flapping in the wind as he skimmed along the surface, the dragon crouched down and grabbed hold for dear life.
Only when it had started to slow down, the boat shaking slightly as whatever held it let go, did Marek stand up and open his eyes. His jaw dropped when he beheld the sight of what now loomed over him.
A writhing tangle of inky black sea serpents, jaws snapping and hissing at the air, connected with the body of a colossal four-armed titan, bound by blessed chains bearing the mark of the Elder Sign that looped around his throat and affixed to clamps around his wrists. He towered over Marek, ancient and terrible, golden light blazing through the cracks of a caprine skull that seemed to have been carved with runes and occult patterns. To even look upon him made Marek's head throb painfully and his surroundings spin in the throes of vertigo, the mere presence of the entity pressing down against his mind like a thousand tons of weight. But monstrous though he was, and though Marek had to fight to even look towards him- the sinuous black serpents, the bone-white mask, and the golden fur covering his torso were all quickly recognizable to the cultist.
"Master..." Marek called out, sinking to his knees before the eldritch horror. His eyes, unable to look upon the entity directly without his whole body recoiling, instead fixated on the chains that bound his Master underground. "Is this what you meant, when you told me you'd been bound to this realm? Who did this to you?"
The yellow light shining through Canthus' mask of bone intensified. His voice, at once familiar yet distorted and booming in volume, projected itself directly into the dragon's mind so loudly it felt as if his skull might crack open under the force of it.
"THESE CHAINS ARE OF MY OWN MAKING. THE SEAL MUST NOT BE BROKEN."
Category Artwork (Digital) / Fantasy
Species Goat
Gender Male
Size 1280 x 894px
Listed in Folders
The possibility crossed my mind that this might be the case, but I am sad to hear it. Choosing to bind himself like this. It seems so sad and tragic to me. I assume he has good reason to do it, though, possibly in part that this island could be tied directly to his true body? I assume that should the bonds be broken, the very plane on which he keeps his cult would also be destroyed.
Another possibility is much like how mortals are with addictive substances when trying to abstain. Stay as far away from those things and behaviors as you can to try to keep away. In effect, bind yourself. Thus, the addiction won't be able to have hold on you. I wonder if it is much the same, a means to prevent himself from falling into the habits of his kin where he cares nothing for mortals and only wishes to twist and ultimately destroy.
Of course, these are merely the musings of a humble Deep One. The truth is another matter for you or Canthus to reveal at either of your leisure.
Yet again, you astound me with your word weaving and world building. In more ways than one if my suspicions prove correct for the purpose of the seal.
Another possibility is much like how mortals are with addictive substances when trying to abstain. Stay as far away from those things and behaviors as you can to try to keep away. In effect, bind yourself. Thus, the addiction won't be able to have hold on you. I wonder if it is much the same, a means to prevent himself from falling into the habits of his kin where he cares nothing for mortals and only wishes to twist and ultimately destroy.
Of course, these are merely the musings of a humble Deep One. The truth is another matter for you or Canthus to reveal at either of your leisure.
Yet again, you astound me with your word weaving and world building. In more ways than one if my suspicions prove correct for the purpose of the seal.
I never thought I'd get to see Canthus's true form, but now that I have, I am awe-struck.
And more importantly, this increases my desire to ensure that Canthus never feels alone or unappreciated. Making a willing sacrifice is never easy, and deepens my respect for him all the more.
And more importantly, this increases my desire to ensure that Canthus never feels alone or unappreciated. Making a willing sacrifice is never easy, and deepens my respect for him all the more.
I was wondering what his true form was like, and I'm not disappointed.
Those last 2 lines ... 💔
Wish I could hug him...
Those last 2 lines ... 💔
Wish I could hug him...
My guess is that those chains are to help him stay who he wants to be; to tether himself to what he holds dear.
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