![[Image: Judgementb.png]](https://vivariumrpg.com/images/backgrounds/Judgementb.png)
Art by our talented Calico!
[Note: These threads are occurring in the waking world, and the events happening here can be assumed to be forward-dated and taking place on 4/1 so you are not necessarily threadlocked.]
![[Image: ddha2wh-e786cd6b-eccd-4750-aa30-d18ec32d...rh-VJT60kA]](https://images-wixmp-ed30a86b8c4ca887773594c2.wixmp.com/f/ef3f66a0-64d0-4e20-833c-30b1865981c4/ddha2wh-e786cd6b-eccd-4750-aa30-d18ec32d8de7.gif?token=eyJ0eXAiOiJKV1QiLCJhbGciOiJIUzI1NiJ9.eyJzdWIiOiJ1cm46YXBwOjdlMGQxODg5ODIyNjQzNzNhNWYwZDQxNWVhMGQyNmUwIiwiaXNzIjoidXJuOmFwcDo3ZTBkMTg4OTgyMjY0MzczYTVmMGQ0MTVlYTBkMjZlMCIsIm9iaiI6W1t7InBhdGgiOiIvZi9lZjNmNjZhMC02NGQwLTRlMjAtODMzYy0zMGIxODY1OTgxYzQvZGRoYTJ3aC1lNzg2Y2Q2Yi1lY2NkLTQ3NTAtYWEzMC1kMThlYzMyZDhkZTcuZ2lmIn1dXSwiYXVkIjpbInVybjpzZXJ2aWNlOmZpbGUuZG93bmxvYWQiXX0.DWAk0_GDAV1YZTiaUWfQCUQOHLioU7ky2rh-VJT60kA)
You step through the third door.
The moment you emerge, the air shifts; heavy, thick, alive. Stone surrounds you, vast and almost suffocating, the chamber walls carved with strange symbols mirroring those etched on the Runes you helped gather. The rock hums beneath your paws in slow, uneasy pulses, as though the Isle itself is breathing through crippling pain. Dust shakes loose from thin cracks in the ceiling overhead, and somewhere deep within the walls a low wail resonates, agony made into pure sound; you flatten your ears to your head, trying to shut it out. It's almost too much.
At the center of the chamber, bound in chains biting deep into bone and flesh and the very rock they are embedded in, is a wolf.
He is like you - or was, once.
Iron restraints burning with an ethereal glow dig into his limbs, his chest, his throat, and each link is pulled taut as he strains against them. Fury, pain, grief in equal measure are all etched in deep lines across the wolf's expression, and then he sees you - and for a moment, recognition flickers across his face. You see his scarred hind limb, the once-fractured leg somehow miraculously set back into place, likely a product of the potent magic flowing both within him and without.
He is the third wolf from the dream - the one who was left behind.
As if knowing your thoughts, he opens his mouth and another deafening howl escapes.
For centuries unending he has slept dormant beneath the waves; waiting and trapped in a dreamless sleep, duty-bound for the call that would one day pull him back to the surface where he would begin his solemn work of quelling Mythris' wrath.
To keep them safe - always to keep them safe - they would come back for him. There was time. They had promised they would come back for him. And so he toiled, half-numb in blind hope, prowling the coastlines and pushing back against the roiling fury that threatened to break through.
But unknown to the Visitor - through the smallest of errors - he had dreamed with you.
And he saw them running.
He saw them running, and they didn't look back. Not once. He knew now that they had fled for many more years after he who you call the Dream Visitor instructed him to stay hidden, tucked away in that doomed crevasse, assuring him that they would come back when it was safe and his injury would not see them all captured - but they had never looked back, not even when at last the Cleansing was at hand and they hid themselves beneath the roots of an ancient tree.
And left him.
This realization broke whatever fragile sliver of his mind remained, and the wolf within the Isle would see the world burn. Not even Mythris would be spared; the very power he once sought to contain he now dragged up screaming through the bedrock, shattering the landscape and threatening to tear the earth apart until nothing remained but his endless grief.
When he moves, the chamber seems to respond. Stone shudders and the ground shifts dangerously beneath you, and you notice something in his expression has changed.
You can see the whites of his eyes.
He roars again, a terrible sound that stretches on for what feels like minutes as you close your eyes and try to protect your ears. It eventually settles into a low, guttural snarl, and as he turns to fully face you, the chained wolf's intent is clear.
He will never be alone again - even if his only companions are the dead.
What will you do? Break the tortured wolf’s chains - or end his suffering where he stands?
The moment you emerge, the air shifts; heavy, thick, alive. Stone surrounds you, vast and almost suffocating, the chamber walls carved with strange symbols mirroring those etched on the Runes you helped gather. The rock hums beneath your paws in slow, uneasy pulses, as though the Isle itself is breathing through crippling pain. Dust shakes loose from thin cracks in the ceiling overhead, and somewhere deep within the walls a low wail resonates, agony made into pure sound; you flatten your ears to your head, trying to shut it out. It's almost too much.
At the center of the chamber, bound in chains biting deep into bone and flesh and the very rock they are embedded in, is a wolf.
He is like you - or was, once.
Iron restraints burning with an ethereal glow dig into his limbs, his chest, his throat, and each link is pulled taut as he strains against them. Fury, pain, grief in equal measure are all etched in deep lines across the wolf's expression, and then he sees you - and for a moment, recognition flickers across his face. You see his scarred hind limb, the once-fractured leg somehow miraculously set back into place, likely a product of the potent magic flowing both within him and without.
He is the third wolf from the dream - the one who was left behind.
As if knowing your thoughts, he opens his mouth and another deafening howl escapes.
For centuries unending he has slept dormant beneath the waves; waiting and trapped in a dreamless sleep, duty-bound for the call that would one day pull him back to the surface where he would begin his solemn work of quelling Mythris' wrath.
To keep them safe - always to keep them safe - they would come back for him. There was time. They had promised they would come back for him. And so he toiled, half-numb in blind hope, prowling the coastlines and pushing back against the roiling fury that threatened to break through.
But unknown to the Visitor - through the smallest of errors - he had dreamed with you.
And he saw them running.
He saw them running, and they didn't look back. Not once. He knew now that they had fled for many more years after he who you call the Dream Visitor instructed him to stay hidden, tucked away in that doomed crevasse, assuring him that they would come back when it was safe and his injury would not see them all captured - but they had never looked back, not even when at last the Cleansing was at hand and they hid themselves beneath the roots of an ancient tree.
And left him.
This realization broke whatever fragile sliver of his mind remained, and the wolf within the Isle would see the world burn. Not even Mythris would be spared; the very power he once sought to contain he now dragged up screaming through the bedrock, shattering the landscape and threatening to tear the earth apart until nothing remained but his endless grief.
Lerm eipa - eipar lodrir - eipar lodrir lerm eipa - lerm eipa -he repeats to nothing, to no one.
Lerm eipa - lerm eipa -
When he moves, the chamber seems to respond. Stone shudders and the ground shifts dangerously beneath you, and you notice something in his expression has changed.
Yia kir fier him!
You can see the whites of his eyes.
Yia ere kan him!
He roars again, a terrible sound that stretches on for what feels like minutes as you close your eyes and try to protect your ears. It eventually settles into a low, guttural snarl, and as he turns to fully face you, the chained wolf's intent is clear.
He will never be alone again - even if his only companions are the dead.
What will you do? Break the tortured wolf’s chains - or end his suffering where he stands?