Betrayed, broken, and beyond repair. The poor creature didn't deserve this.

But, like a feral, aggressive beast, past the chance of redemption or healing, the kindest thing now was to put it out of pain.

Caiaphas slunk forward through the chaos. Leave your misery behind, dear one. I hope your next life is kinder. She lunged to kill.

OOC

Attacking chains

---

The end of the world was upon them once more.

It seemed a strange theme, didn't it? For every world that Amaranth and Valeska entered, there seemed to be some earth-shattering end. An end that, oftentimes, led to their own ends. Earthquakes and landslides. Natural disasters. And now, unnatural disasters. But it did not matter what the danger was, because Amaranth would chase Valeksa into the end of days every time. In every lifetime.

Perhaps this time, though, there was hope that they could free their world from dark suspension. If they could, then everything that had been built here could be spared. Elysium. Their family. Their allies and friends. Perhaps this time, they could fight their way through, instead of being victims of an aching world and aching magic. 

The denizens of Mythris appeared together, flocking en masse through the portal that would change everything. Amaranth, too, would follow into war, trailing in the background of the blue-tinted tunnel as her amythyst gaze flashed. Her decision was easy — break the chains alongside her family. Free them of their own sufferings in freeing the broken wolf from his own.

From the outskirts of the dark dream, she would appear ... casting Amaris a gaze that lasted for a bit too long before settling to work next to Valeska. Together, she'd hum, turning her intense gaze to those around her. The High Augur did not have much strength left in her brittle bones, her ankles still aching (for some reason), but she would meticulously set to work on unlocking the metal prison.

What she lacked in strength, she attempted to make up for in strategy, aiming her blows toward whatever weakened connective points she could identify.

---

Here was the moment of his ascension! Wolves piled around the great wolf, a mass of shadow cast bodies fringed in blue. They pulled at ancient chains. Tore at ancient fur. He ignored them all, save one — Rook. Lunging to her side with a fearsome growl, he grinned in a shape that seemed too wide to be entirely mortal against the glow of magical restraint.

She promised to bring him the Heart. From it, he would claim his rightful place above all others, mortal and god alike! But Janus was not a benevolent Lord, or a generous one. This was a mark he wished to savor all his own. Lunging at the prisoner's throat, Janus proclaimed, I'll take it myself!

---

Gonna laugh my ass off if Janus dies here. If we can choose death/reincarnation then I would like to do that for him

Lyra wanted nothing to do with any of it. The wraiths, the sky-plague, the black ooze, the chained wolf, the moving isle — beyond mortals. Beyond her. Ghosts speaking in dreams begging her to be a hero was nothing she'd ever signed up for, let alone wanted.

But she didn't want the world to end, either. And these days, she had more to think of than herself.

So, yes, she picked the big fuckoff door that would take her to the big fuckoff island to face the big fuckoff wolf responsible for trying to ruin all of her shit.

And stood at the threshold of the ancient prison, bottlebrush fur fluffed out with fear and static. First at the wolf himself, monstrous, bleeding from the pull of tightened chains and ripping fangs.

Then, worse, at the ones trying to free him. This, their executioner!

She'd had millennia fewer to nurse hatred for the man who betrayed her, and no act of mercy from him would ever have stayed her wrath if he was put before her now. She'd burned ships before, with same fervor this monster sent blue claws to rend the earth.

But she'd burn this tyrant, too, for thinking he had the right to decide her fate, or the fate of her pups.

'Ave ye all lost yer damn minds? Lyra snarled, rushing to the fray in desperation. Ye set tat beast free an' it'll kill ye all, an' yer mates, an' yer whelps, an' everyone else! Teeth latched to the mangled leg, aiming for an artery to cleave open.

Nate hesitated at the gates.

Sing.
Sing like the Red Bird, and bring back the joy of Sun. His throat tightened. He felt the burden of his ancestors.

Fight.
Fight monsters, fight for land, for family, for freedom. He'd been sold that lie before. But he'd been good at soldiering. Maybe this time it would be different... maybe it would matter. Maybe it would be his end, but maybe that would be worth it.

Judge.
Nate swallowed.

All this time, and it was only another man. Lost and alone and hurting... and... it felt strange, to give Nate, or anyone else, a say in what the consequence should be for losing hope.

But he had to choose. The only route beyond consideration was to do nothing at all.

It could matter, to simply lift his voice in song.

Hadn't he given enough, already? Would he ever?

Others would take the harder roads. Bear the weight of responsibility.

...But what if no one did? What if he kept his peace, and the silence of a single man meant hatred won, instead? Or what if his voice still wasn't enough to turn the tide?

He looked back at the first door, again.

Then — turned into the third.

---

Grimacing through the uncomfortable tingle of magic on his fur, Nate shivered, blinking through a sudden bright blue. Then stared in awe at the battle underway between crumbled stone. Sorrow turned to violent rage bled from every wound across the captive stranger. Nate ached.

This was an enemy.

They were dangerous.

But wasn't everyone? Nate knew what grief did to the helpless. And this one, he'd waited... all this time, for a rescue, never faltering. How many others could claim that dedication? It seemed the shock, the sudden pain of having everything you hoped and believed in ripped away, ruled this captive now.

Which meant they must have a way back.

Nate had to believe there was a way back.

The right thing and the smart thing weren't always the same. In Nate's case, he was still waiting for the day they'd both align. But he'd still made the choice, in an instant.

He's not the enemy! Nate called out, ears pinning at the violent accusation of a calico she-wolf dressed in gold who had come in just before.

He's been trapped here, just like the rest of us! And lunged after her, then, set upon the task of putting himself between the captive and his attackers, to give the rest time to free him.

We're not like the others! We can be better, we have to be! Nate snarled. Let him go!

---

If Nate rolls death/reincarnation, I'll take that roll. If not, then I want to give him a major injury!