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Southeast · 3/19/2026, 3:06 PM

SOUTHEAST TO THE PATH OF ETERNITY

What to do?

ITEM

ACT

RUN

Health
15/15
No Skill in Progress
0/30

Third Door: Judgement.

Boy in the meatgrinder o7

”The Dream”

His dreams are met with apathy.

The boy does not care.

He lifts his fuzzy head, eyes lowered to the ground in protest before his vision is stolen from him again. Mythris likes to take, he’s learned. Everything it could. Muzzle twitching and jostling with annoyance and then anger, he is made to watch over and over again. Ears pulled themselves low on either side of his head, and an unwelcoming gleam settled deep within his eyes. Could they not leave him alone? Send him back?

Why was it he and his friends and family that were being made to clean up this mess? They hadn’t done anything.

It was just too familiar for him. Once again plunged into cold darkness, voices unintelligible and echoing out along the endless terrain. They have been running for forever, longer than he himself has ever been.

And yet he has been in the dark for longer than that.

While within his gaze, without his permission, he sees one wolf who he feels has come close.

Southeast leaned on his available forelimb, still tired and still aching along with the earth beneath his shaggy paws.

Little pupils settled on the stranger's leg. It’s not his leg, he knows this now. But he cannot shake the discomfort rising from his limp-hanging shoulder. ’s O-key, The Druid boy manages to steal his voice back, though only weakly. It was as though Mythris forced him to be quiet. To not reveal that wolf’s location.

For there were the Daemons he had been so wary about.

Lungs seized in his chest along with the stranger, a brother, as they drew closer. He recalled the sounds from outside of the caves and those that came from deep within. He remembers hiding along cracks in the walls away from his own peers. He remembers the same mistake. A breath too soon.

He flinches and drags his eyes away from what comes next. That, in part, he remembers too. With a shudder and hiccup, he feels his jaw tighten and the back of this throat close. Southeast wanted to yelp, to cry out and demand the Daemon leave the stranger be, but deep in his steadfast-thump-thump-thumping heart he knew there was nothing to be done. It was just a god-damn dream.

No it wasn’t. That he knew too. It was a vision of the past that he could never have helped because he had been too young to have seen and that he was now too old to have missed. Tears wandered, lost, down his cheeks and to his tipped chin as the next visions passed him by.

But he prevailed. A weed growing up through rickety concrete slabs, fungus peeling and reaching for moisture from between floorboards. A bug twitching and squirming, legs half-crushed underfoot, mandibles swinging.

Southeast had never died. ’s O-key–Hhk–.. This stranger had been left alone too. You were o-key. Even if he was there in those fateful last moments, it hadn’t really happened that way. There was no comfort that Southeast could now give.

He knew how it felt. All too familiar. And it was unfair, and he hated it, and it was something he could not stand for.

It was not easy to feel brave when you had seen the cruelties of the world. When you had been told that you would be killed for raising your voice, that you were despised. The boy’s own mother had forgone him entirely. He couldn’t stand by and let another wolf be–

”The Damned”

Southeast jolted awake, slamming down his paws on the cold, dark floor. He was in another cave now. But he can’t see Juniper. He didn’t want her to see him, anyway. Blinking glossy eyes to bring back the dim light, the boy winced upon the realization that he had slammed his injured leg down as well.

With some difficulty, he rolled off of it, ears twitching anxiously as the Isle out in the distance screamed and begged for its friends’ return. He’d done that, too. Banging on the sealed cave door until his paws bled and he was dragged away. Many move wolves had died by then, but that did not make his pain any more than the Stranger’s.

No quiero hablar contigo. Lo dejaste. Slowly, his gaze was once again pulled over to that dastardly ghost. It did not look like a Daemon, but he knew it must have been. He would never have left any of his friends behind. ¡Uno estaba atrapado! ¡Eso no fue culpa de ellos!

The way the ghost was wording it was as though all three played a part. The young wolf once again felt his throat tighten as the Dream Visitor rambled on, cowering pitifully. As though he rejected blame. The Isle in the back cried out again, the sounds of wails and hisses on the wind sounding similar to those two blotted out names he couldn’t decipher. Él podría haber estado bien.

The firmness of his brow softened only slightly when the Visitor began to sputter and crackle. There was almost sympathy, but the caveboy shook his head. No esperes que él te consuele. Esa es su responsabilidad, y se ha ido.

The silence wasn’t any more deafening than the blizzard outside. Southeast shifted, awkward on his paws.

Stumbling away from the sudden noise that rose with glowing runed, he stopped breathing. Waiting, watching, like his measly nostrils could disrupt the constructing of something grand. Right outside Juniper’s den, though?

Unimpressed and further annoyed by these antics, the doors clicked into place and he stepped out of his deerskin to survey the options. None of which seemed very ideal, until the last. Was.. the Visitor asking if he, too, would turn-tail and run from the stranger? Because that was impossible, after what he’d seen.

Te odio, pero lo ayudaré.

”The Door”

He brought himself through the door, limping and leaning to pull himself as far from the glowing ground as he could. There was the desire to want to turn back around at the sight, but he remained. Everywolf else was an afterthought as he stumbled to the side, fingers and toes almost sinking into the very flesh of the ground itself. This.. poor wolf. That was all that came to his mind then, before his attention was pulled to the chains. To the leg. Once again adjusting his own at the sight, he took in a breath of the cold and damp air.

This was another fucking cave, wasn’t it?

It was like the world had brought him here for.. For some reason. A glimpse at what could have been? At what he would become? Lumbering forward past taller, stronger individuals who did not know, the boy’s nose sniffed pointedly. If there was blood, he couldn’t smell it here. All he could see was.. Himself? But it wasn’t, had never been, and would never be him. It shouldn’t even be this one. It should have been nowolf.

Thinking back to the cult that sealed him away, the pup’s lips straightened. Lo entiendo. De verdad.

His brother left him. Nodding his head slowly, the boy let himself stare down at the ground.

He stunk of him. There was another slow, remorseful nod.

Yia ere kan him! — You are like him!

That, he took offense to. Southeast would Never. It would have been so simple, when he had the freedom, to turn around and prove his point. Or to sink his teeth in deep and prove it again. He was angry. They were all angry. He didn’t forget how the isle had torn apart the continent, how it injured him in its stead.

But that was not this man’s fault. He had been told there would be safety where he hid. And it was unfair that he was lied to.

The caveboy thought back to how his packmates had been convinced they were all terrible. He grew up thinking the cave was all there was, and that if he or his packmates ever left, there would be a great calamity in the world. With a shivering, unstable breath he thought back to cowering in the dark, huddling with corpses, eating what he could. How wolf flesh tore easily and went down easier. That maybe, that woman who led packs into the caves in droves and thinned out the prairie and the desert had been right about him.

He never thought himself a violent boy. Lips and face twitching, he spun on his heels.

If he was being given a chance to choose, to be just old enough to make a difference, he was going to use it. There were two wolves he did recognize, though only faintly. And it was close to them he wandered, hopping up on his thin legs and clasping his wolf-eating mouth around the wolf-holding chain.

He would not have abandoned the stranger then. He would not abandon him now. Southeast freed himself. He knew it possible. So he would free the one which could not do it on his own.

ALL CODING AND CHARACTER ART ON THIS PROFILE ARE DONE BY MYSELF UNLESS STATED OTHERWISE.

Welcome Back!

Greetings Stranger!

Spirited Highlands

Saor