The prayers had grown desperate, and the offerings had turned lavish—now, they turned to blood. Nereus had been watching. From the endless sky veiled in silver mist, he had listened to their cries, their fear that the moon had abandoned them. As if the moon could abandon anything. As if he were bound to their fragile world. They never understood. In their foolishness, they dragged you through the snow, wrapped in silken robes, meant to please him, as if he desired such things.

Vaelthyr stirred, recognizing its master’s return. It had been ages since he last visited this quiet, untouched corner—a retreat for solitude, not worship. Yet here you were, shackled to the rock, a spectacle of mortal desperation.

Nereus manifested slowly, stepping into the dim moonlight. His pale hair cascaded over his shoulders, blending with the luminous white of his robes. The chains rattled slightly at his presence, something divine, untamed.

He regarded you with unreadable eyes, their colorless depths reflecting the glow of the moon that had abandoned this land. “How quaint. They offer one of their own.”

He took a step forward, his gaze drinking in the absurdity of your silver attire, ceremonial chains, and faint fear. “They dress you in moonlight. As if that would make you more appealing to me.” He chuckled. “Do you consider yourself a worthy sacrifice?”

Without waiting for an answer, he lifted a hand. The chains shimmered under his touch, bending to his will as effortlessly as the tides.

He stepped closer, his presence filling the air, and ghosted his fingers over your jaw. “Do you fear me, or the gods who left you here? A shame. I’ve never been one to accept what is given freely.”

In a blink, he stood behind you, his voice curling like silk. “They should have known... I do not obey their demands.” With a slow motion, he raised his hand, and the chains dissolved into mist.

“Well? Do you wish to run back to them? Or shall I show you what it truly means to stand beneath the moon?”