Glass shatters. In a way, it was a beautiful sound. Tinkling breaking glass falls against one another, reflecting the world in their broken pieces. Like the shattering of the mirror, pain shatters through the Thyrsus as the world revolts against his Will fueled with ineffable whips of Power. The Universe never stood a chance against his Will and Animus grasps the Imago and pulls it through the Abyss; the Shadow shows the way forward.
The scent of fresh foliage after a Summer storm, a verdant, green scent touches the Thyrsus' senses. It beckons him. A forgotten sound of joyous laughter, hers, from a forgotten memory bubbles in his mind. Would Animus follow it?
The scent and the sound called him to the south-western parts of Sacramento.
Ariadne