Amaris did not feel any semblance of himself within his body as his paws raced atop the summer-kissed grass. He was nothing more than an observer watching from above as his own legs moved with the panicked gait of a man now lost.

Lily—Lylith—had dropped a very real bomb atop his head, chucked it his way, and what? What was he meant to do with that information? Why did he need to know any of that? Could they not have—Could they just have—Could she have just—

He wanted to scream.

But instead, he focused his attention on something entirely different, if only to bring a semblance of relief to his churning mind.

Amaranth.

He had been searching for her before he had been stopped by Li—Lylith.

He needed to see her.

He needed to talk to her.

He needed—

His heart was a thundering beat within his ears, all encompassing and all surrounding as his gaze tuned in and out—half blurred, half sharpened—as he searched for his mother. A state of numbness came next, paired with his heightened adrenaline, as he raced across the field—gaze cast toward every semi-familiar body that existed in his line of sight.

If it were not for his sister’s familiar horror-like screech, Amaris perhaps would have been too late—too lost in the assortment of his own thoughts—to have found his mother in time. Instead, his body veered in the direction of his gremlin-like sibling, and before long, he spotted both of them, or well, all three of them.

Amaranth, lying bloodied on the ground ahead, his sister Amaya, and Glitch all huddled together.

Blood was heavy in the air.

As was a mysterious glowing ooze dribbling from Amaya’s lips.

He would think on that later.

MOM! He called, as his paws skidding to a stop beside her crumpled form, practically nosing his way into the fold between both Amaya and Glitch’s lowered heads.

One of you, he directed, turning his golden gaze, which now practically burned with two panicked heartbreaks, toward the others, Go find a healer. There has to be someone around here who knows something.

He hoped.

Amaris glanced at the shaky rise and fall of his mother’s chest. At least she was still breathing…

His body all but shook in quiet panic.

Someone should go find Valeska. He murmured to anybody who would listen.

But as his eyes trailed his mother’s golden form- so much like a bird who had fallen from a tree—he remembered the horror he had felt when he had found her half-drowned by the mouth of the river.

At least then he had had half an idea of how to help.

Here…he didn’t know what to do.

Mama, he whispered, his voice a wobble (not only from the trauma of seeing his mother half dead, but also once more from the bomb Lylith had sent his way), as he planted a kiss along her forehead. Stay with us. Please.