[Freezair]

It had been a crazy year for Horrorforged.

He had never really thought of himself as a "people Trumpetter." It was hard to be so when only half of you was anything sane. The other half was... something, some older species, something his mother had sought so desperately to identify that she'd borne a child by one just to have something solid to pick at. Maybe in was her actions, maybe it was his own inherent personality, or maybe it was just a crippling fear of being judged for the thing he almost was. Either way, he was largely content to stay away from the rest of Evelon, lurking in his hole in the wall beneath the waves, living off deep-sea creatures and never admitting how alone he felt.

Until a few months ago.

[Freezair]

Every so often, it would happen that some of his brethren would ascend to the surface to go hunting for Evelonian minds to prey on. He didn't like it, and whenever it happened, he quietly tried to help their prey escape back above. He usually gave these victims his spiel about who he was and what his origins were, then bubbled them back to the surface to live out their lives, a little more anxious than they were before. He always hoped they did well, but he'd never really CONNECTED with any of them before.

Then came those two Kitrell sisters. Afraid, yes, but willing to push passed that, full of vim and vigor and willing to put up whatever fight was necessary to save not only themselves, but their fellow captives.

Something about those two had drawn him in. Something about the way they threw themselves selflessly into the fray...

And then It had awoken.

[Freezair]

He couldn't confirm that the current colorless state of the world and It awakening were connected, but if he were a betting Trumpetter, he'd lay money down on the possibility. Ciara shared that belief. And while she and her sister understandably had no desire to return to the city beneath the sea, both of them believed that investigating it was a wise decision.

He thought it'd be harder to find now that it wasn't glowing green. But with the ocean depths being colorless, any pinprick of light at all stood out.

What he hadn't expected was that the city WOULD have color. Just... not the color he thought it would.

[Freezair]

The city was... pink.

Bright pink. It was the pink of the Girl Version of a children's toy. It was a pink not normally found in nature. And yet here it was, spread in front of him, illuminating the city of the Abyssal Ones.

Whatever he'd been expecting to find, it sure wasn't this.

He slowed his approach. He dove down to the seafloor and dove between rocks, just in case something was lurking to pounce on him. Whatever this color portended, he was worried.

[Freezair]

With trepidation, Rory slid inside the bubble that protected the city.

Things had been... rearranged since It had awoken. Buildings had toppled; spires were sideways. The Abyssal Ones normally didn't care; any hole that granted shelter was home enough to them. Though the walls of the city were covered in strange carvings, he wasn't sure if the Abyssal Ones had carved them. Or maybe not the Abyssal Ones he knew. It that had awoken--perhaps that creature had ordered art made in its image, or even crafted it Itself.

But it was quiet down here. As quiet as if, in the upheval, everything had deserted the town.

[Freezair]

Did the Abyssal Ones fear the color pink? That might not be a terrible thing to keep in mind for later...

But the pinkness did not come from nowhere. Rounding a corner, Rory happened upon the source--or at least, a source--of the strange glow.

Something, somehow, had scrawled an enormous shape on the side of one of the buildings. Rory could not immediately tell what it was, because as soon as he came close, a powerful headache stabbed him right between his eyes.

[Freezair]

The pain traveled down his spine, into his fins and the tip of his tail. It turned into a strange, bubbling, fizzing sensation as it moved--like someone had dropped seltzer tablets into his blood. Rory backed away in a hurry, and the pain quickly subsided. He moved up the side of a fallen building for a better look at the thing that made him ache.

It was a giant crescent moon. A giant crescent moon that glowed brilliant pink.

[Freezair]

It was an unassuming shape. But for some reason, the sight of it sent that effervescent fear roiling through his body.

It's a sigil, he realized. It was a sigil against the Abyssal Ones. He, being partially of that breed, was somewhat vulnerable to it. At a distance like this, it only filled him with dread. He had to be right up next to it to be hurt. The others, he imagined, were not so luck.

From his perch of rubble, he scanned around him. The tips of crescents peered at him from all around the wrecked city.

[Freezair]

The smattering of sigils here suggested several different things to him.

1. Someone else had been down here--perhaps several other someones--and covered the place in these wards against the Abyssal Ones.

2. That meant someone else on the surface was aware of them, but was not a worshipper.

3. This someone, or these someones, knew of a technique to fight them.

4. And somehow, this technique broke through the curse of colorlessness that plagued Evelon, glowing bright pink in what was once an emerald world.

[Freezair]

Hadn't Ailbhe and Ciara said they'd wanted to find people to help them fight It?

Someone had been here. Someone who had wanted to stop It as well. Had this person been fighting alone, or were they part of a merry band, standing against the tides of darkness sweeping Evelon?

Rory had no idea. But he did know this: More heads were better. And with any luck, the individuals who had placed those sigils knew that too.

The Abyssal Ones didn't make their hunting personal. There was no danger in leaving behind traces of oneself in this city. Which meant that maybe, just maybe, there was evidence here that would help Rory track down the culprit.

He floated down from his plinth and began to search.

[Color Harvested]