The darkness felt sentient, as conscious and aware as the shadows that often rippled past his peripherals, flickering in the disembodied haze that haunted his every step. Since the world had fallen prey to the dark whims of this monstrous plague, Amaris’ demons had seemingly disappeared from his company. Ironically, he found himself missing their uneasy presence in the shadows of his heels.

As the world had shifted and the light of day had begun to dim, held captive beneath a glowing, red moon, a different sort of chill had started to send shivers down his spine.

He knew nothing good would come from whatever hell was blanketing the world. But as his paw steps trudged forward through the growing darkness, he could not help but stare skeptically at the red sphere that hung above.

This was not his moon, he had thought.

This was not a moon beneath whose glowing aura he felt safe and protected.

This moon was different—cold and discomforting.

He knew he and Aelia had to return home, and while he searched for the mysterious tunnel that had brought them both to the south, Amaris was beginning to face a newfound difficulty as the darkness crept up behind him.

He was turning around. Disoriented among this new type of crimson darkness. And while his disembodied demons, he had come to know so well, did not accompany him, he could have sworn there was something else within the black.

Amaris pushed forward, quietly, as his eyes strained against the midnight black—ears trained forward as he let out an uncertain call to the beyond. If you are out there, demons, he started, hoping that his own words would somehow scare them off, Be gone and let me find my way.