As the sun fully rises, Cheth sinks beneath the waves, leaving Phaedra to stare down at them from the surface. Above the sky is a peachy pink, and below the red veins of an ocean god illuminate the depths with scarlet colored souls of every shape and size. Men and women, creatures of all kinds, every sort of outfit and countenance gather expectantly. Each one is tainted red and waiting with their arms spread wide in welcome. At the top, the twins pose gleefully, each reaching a hand up as though Phaedra will reach down and join them this instant. The princess stands stoic, alone on top of the waves, and doesn’t loosen her grip on her sword and dagger in the slightest.
Cheth: When your soul crosses the Horizon Line on new year’s day… The Red Tide King will welcome you with open arms. I will be so glad to finally possess you, Phaedra Philemon… The crown jewel of my beautiful dead menagerie. Come back to me and sing forever, down in the great echoing graveyard of the world…
Phaedra contemplates that, and the severity of her situation settles into her features once more. Dread, fear, doubt, guilt. The light of dawn does not lessen it- and neither does the sound of her friends coming to.
Voice 1: Phae?
Voice 2: Is that you?
