They were in the middle of a mountain, snowflakes raining generously from the fluffy white clouds from above. In the land of Vitalitatis, some folklore stories theorized that the weather was affected by the God of Life's emotional state.

Rain was the physical representation of sadness, the raindrops being the tears of sorrow and grief the deity was forbidden to shed. Whether it be in private or in public, he couldn't let any hint of weakness seep through, those were the words of the Father of all beings.

Sunny weather meant that he was feeling content today, so happy in fact that if anyone were to stand and bathe in the rays of light, their sour mood would fade away, replaced by a relieving euphoria at their deity's joy. It would push away the clouds of death invading the territory and make the lost ones burst forth from the ground, lost souls finally finding peace within the gentle light brushing their spirit.

If lightning were to clash against the ground and shook the planet's core, the azure sky hidden by black clouds accumulating that terrible energy, it was simply the thunder acting under the God's rage. The thunder roaring in a distance sent tremors of terror running down the inhabitants' spines, who tripped on each other to lock themselves in their houses, praying the Lord would calm down soon. Whenever the electrical form of hatred poured into the cities, it lit some buildings on fire along with the humans hidden within.

Their desperate calls for help were drowned out by the lightning, even so, raindrops would wash their souls away with the hint of guilt. Dux never meant to hurt them but anger could make you do things that even you wouldn't think you would do, lashing out at those you hold close to your heart and immediately regret it after. The Heralds were no exception to the rule.

The theories about the weather rambled on and on afterward, speculating on every little detail. But what is interesting here, is the meaning of snow.

The pure milky white flecks gracefully gliding down the bubbly clouds to rest upon the unperturbed beds of flowers and grass were told to be the physical manifestation of calm and peace.

The cold embraced the people and the land to lull them to a dreamless sleep whenever the heat of life and adventure was becoming overwhelming, it covered the soil with a spotless blanket of snowflakes who gathered together to become one soothing lullaby for the mortals that roamed these lands.

If that was true, it meant that the God of Life was okay with what was currently happening.

Myra ran in the snow, the crunch of the flakes being crushed by her heels drowning out Yazan's yell of worry and Spencer's hoarse call. She rotated her body to the right during her sprint, barely dodging an arrow covered with a tar-blacked substance that danced in the wind like fire and swallowed the snowflakes that made contact with it, deleting them from existence.

She slipped because of the sudden movement, body was sent rolling a few meters below before finally coming to a stop after her back collided with a conveniently placed rock. Something in her throat was desperately trying to crawl out of the fleshy prison and she gave in a few seconds later, caught in a violent fit of coughing as blood stained the immaculate bed of snow like paint splatters on a white canvas.

She stayed motionless on all fours for a few seconds, chest going up and down to the beat of her irregular breathing. Her vision was blurry on some edges, making her head spin. In her hazy state, she suddenly took note of the sound of crushing snow near her.

She raised her head painfully, pupils rolling to send a glare in the direction of the person. A low growl escaped from her throat, filled with warnings and wordless threats.

"Well, well... Who do we have here?" Voice silk and sweet like honey said with an underline tone of mockery and danger, the dark figure stepping way too close for comfort. "Wouldn't you be, by any chance, my Mystical Dove counterpart?"

***

"Um..." Oscar stammered, unable to form any comprehensible sentences, his situation right now was just too irrealistic for him to come up with anything to say. "I get that you need my help, for some reasons... but was it really necessary to tie me up to a chair?"

"Probably not, I just felt like it." The short woman in black stated, shrugging. That woman was soon identified as Myra Windsor, who also happened to be the Spy of the group. She was leaning heavily on the nearby wall, arms crossed around her chest with one of her hands rotated in his direction with a purple flicker of light coming out of her palm.

Bending to her comment, Oscar's traitorous shadow had wrapped itself around its owner tightly, making him unable to move his arms, his legs, or pretty much everything.

"I think you should let the poor man go, he looks terrified." Another woman but winged this time suggested, eyes flicking back and forth between Myra and Oscar. They were lit up with a concern, does that woman ever stop?

"Yeah Myra, please just release him already." Another person joined it, that one looked younger than the two others despite being taller than Myra. "That's not quite how you're supposed to ask someone for help."

The fourth man in fancy golden clothes scoffed. "But that's not a surprise, is it? We've already established that Lady Windsor is uncivilized and would act like a wild animal. Would you look at that? I was right! That woman is incapable of acting like an upstanding civilian."

If looks could kill, that Alex would have been buried at least twelve feet below. She was about to say something, most likely a petty and snarky remark until the boy in red grabbed her wrist and shook his head disapprovingly.

"I'm not up to going through another mind-blowing argument with you two, can we please just cut it out?" Yazan pleads, visibly in despair. Just how long did he have to put up with that?

"You are both acting like petty teenagers, you are adults, please act like it." Spencer sighed, looking as done with life as Yazan. If throwing herself in a bed of thorny roses could make her get out of this, she would gladly do so without remorse as long as it meant getting away from these two.

If Alex and Myra were already acting like that, one wonders how she would react to being in the same room as Nathan for two minutes. They would probably be at each other's throats.

"Some people here have brain cells and you're not one of them." Alex arrogantly rolled his eyes, letting himself slouch on the wall behind him.

"Yazan, let me at him," Myra stated almost calmly, desperately trying to wriggle out of the teenager's grip. Of course, the latter didn't budge and tighten his grip instead, keeping an eye fixated on the woman's eyes that screamed murder.

"No." He replied with a husk of a tired throat. "I'm not going to assist in a murder."

"Myra, for the love of Fides, please just forget about Alex and free..." Spencer's voice paused, spacing out the word free. She raised her pupils to the ceiling as if the answers she sought would be written on it. "I'm sorry, I forgot your name." She finally sighed in defeat, looking back at the man.

"Oscar. My name is Oscar Curae." The winged person nodded.

"Right. Please forget about Alex and just free Oscar Myra." The person to who that plead was directed stopped moving for a few seconds, pupils darting across the room to fixate on Oscar and look at him up and down like she just noticed him.

She let out a breath and straighten up. The glow in her palm disappeared like flickering candlelight in the harsh gusts of wind and Oscar's shadow soon retreated to its original position, movements smooth like one of a snake.

"Thank you." The Healer swiftly got back on his feet, smoothing out the lines on his white blouse that was littered with dream catcher symbols, some bigger than others. One in particular, in a pitch black color, occupied a quarter of the shirt alone. A tie came to cut the harmonic yet chaotic composition in a pale blue scar.

A coat was wrapped around his shoulder and continued down to his knees, it resembled one of a scientist but had even more symbols and golden accents to give it more spice. One of his sleeves was rolled up to his elbow, revealing his tattooed elbow where a bird, most likely a dove, was taking flight.

His hair was pretty much devoided of any accessories if it wasn't for the hairpin stuck on the left side of his head, representing a static clock. Probably a little touch to underline where his origins lay.

"So, how can I help you?" Frankly speaking, he didn't want to help them anymore after what happened but the entire group seemed to already be falling apart without him intervening so he preferred not to throw alcohol in the fire.

"Funny story," Yazan started, nervously chuckling and looking like he would be able to throw himself off the eleventh floor's balcony if it meant getting out of here. "I and Myra were exploring, you can say, and she somehow fell into a trap and nearly drowned."

Oscar blinked multiple times. Now that's misfortune if he had ever heard of, well not as unfortunate as him for ending up with the role of Healer out of all things but still.

"How did that even happen?" He questioned, raising an eyebrow as his eyes flickered to glance at the main protagonist of the story. The latter raised her hands in the air as if she was shielding herself from a blow, facial features bending to show irritation.

"Don't ask me, life itself just wants me to know it doesn't like me." She mumbled to the side, frowning again. If she kept this up, she would age 60 on her nineteenth birthday.

"Alright then..." Oscar looked back at Yazan. At least he didn't feel like walking on broken eggshells when he was talking to him. "What do you want me to do about that exactly?"

"Aren't you the Healer?" The blond-haired man clicked his tongue in annoyance, how many times will people rub it in his face? Myra glanced at him, perking up at the reaction. Did he not like this role? She shoved that theory in a corner of her brain to deal with later, she was loving how much people let on about themselves without wanting to with just their reactions.

"Indeed, I am. I thought that was clear already." He replied with a neutral face, trying very hard not to let his eyebrow twitch in irritation at the reminder. "But I'm afraid that I have no clue on how to use my powers."

Stunned silence dawned in the room, the emotions churning on themselves in the swirling glass that was their human bodies so great that even the Dead dropped their jaws.

"In other words," Myra was the first to break it, still with a bewildered look. "We spent 45 minutes looking for you for nothing?" Oscar shrugged.

"If it makes you feel better, I don't sense anything wrong about your vital stats." He looked at his raised and gloved hand as he reached up with the other to pull down the glove to cover up his wrist. "I may not be able to heal, per se, but I'm still able to tell whether one is or is not well. You are all perfectly fine... physically."

Myra found that this last part was unnecessary but chose not to make any comment about it, she shoved down yet another piece of information about Oscar in a corner of her brain, this could come in handy in the future.

"Well, that's useless then." Alex huffed before yelping as Spencer slapped him on the back of his head. As Myra expected, the son of the Curae family did not seem to take it too well and frowned in both hurt and anger.

He was about to say something, probably calling him out on the rudeness of the comment before an aura of the same color as their main burst forth from the ground and grabbed their ankles.

"What is the--"

It didn't stop there however, it began tugging them down before swallowing them whole like a hungry beast. Myra stayed three seconds in the animal's den before it collapsed before her eyes, letting her new room appear out of thin air.

"Tenebris, if you pull that shit on me again, I swear I will cut your legs off." The Ducibus shook, not expecting that.

"I'm... sorry?"

"As you should be." After she said those words, she didn't even bother listening to them anymore and simply threw herself on top of the piano. To her surprise, the hardness of the piano faded away and the instrument morphed into a fluffy bed, that welcomed her with open arms.

Well, she wasn't about to complain about that.

She closed her eyes and darkness swallowed her whole again.