** Could an undying love blossom in the ruins of a shattered world? **
And so the world of men was lost
and a new one, our world,
was born.
- Morrígan
Goddess of the Battle
of the Túatha Dé Danann -
4th cycle anno Bellum.
The Second World War...
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Zane had never been so relieved in his life to set foot in the underground labyrinth of the Paris Catacombs. The usually hated corridors, through which he had been smuggling people out with Kaye for months, seemed to have become even darker and more repulsive since Kaye's death. Empty... how he'd felt since the connection to his brother had been ripped from his soul. This place, where darkness reigned while the sun of this world traveled across the sky, had never felt like home.
It was too dark for a Cait-Sith, who could only be truly free in nature, surrounded by forests and meadows. Where the rays shone on the soft fur, and all worries suddenly felt much lighter. But here? It was too dirty here - especially with his white fur, to which every little speck clung like soot stains snow—the air stank of feces and stale water. In the past, he could never have imagined sinking so low.
But now, wounded and hunted, this darkness, even the foul odor and muddy mustiness beneath his staggering paws, was welcome. The walls and stone walls felt like ramparts, giving him support and a sense of security as his blood rush slowly ebbed away. His adrenaline level dropped - but with it, the pain of his wounds penetrated his consciousness more clearly like hammer blows.
Zane put one paw in front of the other and dragged himself deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of the catacombs. Here and there, sounds reached his attentive ears. Everything that didn't want to be found was hiding in these corridors... Outlaws, fugitives, riff-raff.
The corridors kept blurring before his eyes, and at some point, he didn't even know where he was. But it was quiet here. Only the soft scratching of tiny paws and the monotonous dripping of water could be heard; all other noises were far away. At last, he gave his trembling body a break. His body demanded it. His strength was failing him, sinking the proud Caith-Sith into the mud.
Every fiber screamed as he forced his battered body to change form. The pain, already sending a dull throb through his nerves with every breath, seemed to multiply a hundredfold before skin finally replaced white fur and left him gasping in the mud.
Zane tasted the metallic flavor of his own blood on his tongue and groaned in agony. He had already had to endure a lot in his life. Pain, loss, more pain, but this time...
