close to five months | skill

The dreams are nothing new - the strange blue glow on the horizon Reid knows to be a fissure split into the earth based on the dream visitor’s visions. There is an island far larger than any bear wreaking havoc on this world. But Reid is safe, cradled in his Ma’s embrace, guarded by Vidarr’s unshakeable confidence. Safe from the reach of the fissures for now, anyway. The robin is not safe from the Dream Visitor’s influence. The vision envelopes him - hints of terror, grief, exhaustion he’s never had to feel filtering through the dream’s empathetic connection. Reid witnesses gnashing fangs of mutant beasts his own imagination can hardly fathom. His ears prick to catch the abject horror distilled in the Bound One’s screams. Hazel eyes stare at the Visitor’s shadowy features, then fill with scalding tears as Reid realizes he cannot seem to wake up. It’s just a dream. Wake up.

It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream. When he wakes, Ma will sing a lullaby and kiss his tears away. He just has to wake up.

Portals split the air before the boy, radiating with power he can feel in his marrow. Reid hesitates, then throws himself at the First Door - it seems the least like a continued night terror, and most like an escape.

The storm is all-encompassing. The flecks of snow within the winter maelstrom are the only faint echo of his mother’s pale coat. She is nowhere to be found, and the only warmth Reid finds are the tears soaking the fur of his cheeks. MA!, then, VIDARR! but no answer came through the wail of the wind, of Mythris itself. The magic of Mythris soothes his trembling, shields him from the worst of the storm. Reid tilts his nose to the blackened sky.

The robin sings for spring. For the warmth of a mother. For the safety of a father. For the future he’d fought so hard already to see.

Fear would have been natural, but there was something at Grim’s core that told him there was no need for such a feeling. Was it his mother’s Queen, reaching out and reassuring the boy’s soul that he was where he was meant to be? Perhaps. It made sense. Then again, in a family full of fae, nearly anything could make sense.

He sat for the story, a sense of instinctive empathy tugging at his heart as he envisioned himself and his siblings being the ones on the run. Grim frowned, a heavy sadness hanging above him like the overcast clouds. The idea of being left behind… The idea of leaving someone behind. Both were awful, and he sympathized with the raging beast and the desperate dream visitor who was ridden with guilt.

As the portals opened, Grim stared into each. A healer. A warrior. A hero—it wasn’t what was said, but it could be implied. One that was willing to risk it all for the sake of others. He stood before them, multi-colored eyes glancing between the second and third—he knew for certain it was where his family would be. His mother and father, his rowdy siblings, the other wolves of the Howff. They would handle it. They would protect the magical tree and save the isle. And so, he would call for the sun.

Grim bound into the first passage, and immediately his breath was stolen as sharp, cold air filled his lungs.

Grimacing, the boy braced against the wind that attempted to bowl him over. He could hardly see, at first. The wind and darkness swallowed whatever lay ahead of him. But then he heard it—he heard them. The wolves of Mythris that had chosen this path. The ones that were using their voices to rescue the land from the endless winter.

Grim bound ahead, stopping as he noticed the various strangers, each one calling out or singing in their own ways. His attention was stolen by a girl— Kvitrafn. She was young, likely the same age as himself. It was strange, but her presence soothed the emptiness he felt in his siblings’ absence. He found his way closer, taking up a place at her side and letting out his own call.

He knew not who she was, but in this moment she was giving him the strength to stand tall and chase away the darkness.