Part I - Insanity
Sanity is such a fickle thing, one moment it could be as much apart of you as your hands and feet, the next it would be slipping through your fingertips like silken sands, and then falling, falling, falling, 'til it drowned in the waters of madness. The mind that knew itself to be right could be tipped wrong by the smallest action, smallest word, smallest thing... Something as small as the continent of Kalros... And in the taiga of Kalros, a being who madness has adopted as its own wandered through the trees, as the light of the setting sun slipped through the leaves and gently touched her face.
North. East. North. East. North. East. West! North. East. North. East. North. East. West! No.
Where was she again? The tree had told her that that which she sought was northeast. Where is northeast? Was that tree in front of her north? Or was the one behind her north? Which tree would lead her north? The spruce forest had no reply as she spun around in desperation, heart beating louder than the ring of war drums. Her heart WAS a war drum, in fact. The instrument that led the march of two armies in her ear against madness. Madness, it would never win. She was fine.
You're mad.
One beat.
No.
One beat.
Find help.
One beat.
No.
One beat.
Seek the Wolves.
Three beats.
No!
Could anyone help her? She could easily help herself find others. All she had to do was kill herself, find a blade and let it slice the throat, or better, the heart. Stop the heart, stop the heartbeat, stop the war. She would awake and from there find herself safe at home in Asgard.
Asgard? No, it couldn't be Asgard. A faint memory squirmed deep inside her like a worm desperately burying itself deeper to hide from a bird. A memory of purple and sickness, something that meant, No, not Asgard.
Was it Dellsmite? Citadel? Where else had she called home? What was home? The people, the food, the-
A wolf howled.
Her head shot up and at a speed comparable to lightning she raced off in the direction of the sound. Her mind too muddled to properly lift her feet, she constantly found herself on the ground, skin cut open by rocks or roots and gods know what else, but that couldn't stop her. That sound, that howl, that howl meant hope. Victory. It meant nothing could stop her.
Stop her from what? She couldn't remember. What was she doing out here? Would the howl lead her northeast? Or was she supposed to go northwest? Where... What....
With eyes clouded by madness the wanderer scanned the scene. Trees were to her left, her right, above her, grass below her, and through the trees... A road! Cautiously she sneaked closer to it and gently tapped it with a finger. She frowned at the sight of her own hand, for she was unsure whether the red color covering it was from blood or dirt.
The trot of horse's hooves was suddenly heard, and with a scream, the woman dove off the cobblestone road and under the trees. Her heart beat louder and louder as the echoing of hooves stopped, and the thump of boots hitting the stone came closer to her.
No, no, no no no. She couldn't die here. She was so close. So close to what?
The wanderer came face to face with a tall man with dark brown hair and eyes, eyebrows furrowed in concern as he observed the sight before him.
"...Jedoi?" He asked tentatively. Jedoi screamed.
"Jedoi, Jedoi, calm down! You know me! What's wrong?" He asked, taking her wrists so she couldn't flee. She struggled but in her weak, malnourished state she was powerless against him. Finally she turned with a scowl to look at him.
"Gruuuuuuuubul...." She oozed, narrowing her eyes.
"Jedoi, are you alright...? What are you doing out here?" He let one wrist go, which the wanderer used to rub her other wrist before snapping her gaze back to him.
"Home, home, I'm going home." She sung in a voice that sounded something between broken glass and the creak of rusted metal scraping against itself. "Roam, roam, I have to roam. Find, find, I have to find. Kind, kind..." It dropped to a whisper. "My own kind.."
Grubul let her go and she stood up, a wide grin on her face as she danced to her song. He slowly shook his head in disbelief.
"You're mad!" He exclaimed, frowning. "My town isn't far from here. Let me take you there."
"No!" Jedoi screeched, panic rising in her voice. "I have to follow the rules!" Her eyes darted around, looking for an escape route. Almost as if sanity returned for a second, she noted the sword on Grubul's belt, the blue and black cape around his shoulders, the brown horse behind him that she could probably mount quickly if she got around him, the-
"What rules?" He asked, and Jedoi's awareness shattered.
"It's in the name, Cerulean! I have to follow the rules!"
"Jedoi... Cerulean fell years ago." He whispered, to which she shook her head furiously.
She started singing again. "Our only hope lies within the rules! Those who disobey are naught but..." The song ended as she spat the last word, "FOOLS!"
She laughed and clapped as she finished singing, and smiled at Grubul, waiting for a response. He merely stared at her. Her violet eyes, pulsing with meaningless emotion, stared back, and then the sky exploded. Jedoi screamed like a dying bird of prey and dropped to the ground, covering herself with her bruised and bloody arms. Never had the crown of madness sat so strongly upon her head.
Grubul shook his head again, and slowly took steps toward her. In a quick motion he took both her arms with one hand, and lightly placed his other on her forehead, and everything went dark.
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