Complete and total darkness. 

It was a blackness so far in depth that there couldn't, nor shouldn't be an end to such madness. It was slowly beginning to become never ending, waiting on the feeling of perpetual suffocation, but no matter the wait and no matter the arising fears the foretold  heavenly or ghastly (depending on your morality) surroundance did not come.

Yep, that was the only thing to greet Panzram as his slumbering drifted off just as the moon should have this morning. Wasn't it morning? It couldn't possibly still be dark, and even if it were, it shouldn't be so void of light and without a moon! For the first time since entering the Threshold of Helovia, an uncontrollable shiver ran throughout every inch of his body, leaving no movable spot unquivered. This was a nightmare, something like that which he had dreamt about since the time of his reawakening... yet what was really going on was different still. No angel would be coming down from their high heaven to cast away these lucid shadows. 

Which was both good and bad news. Good because he wasn't dead, but bad because that was the good news.

"H-Hello?" Panzram was truly trying desperately to maintain his composure, and the stutter in his speech and slur about his tone wasn't doing much for encouragement. Neither was the unanswered, continuous echoing of his one and only word since becoming conscious of the blackout. All of this was familiar enough to that exact moment of near death, but the situation no matter how similar still called for panic... and just like that, the flood gates were opened. Hyperventilation, was inevitable, and as the uncontrollable gasps for breaths commenced,  Panzram tossed his cranium back with eyes of gold wide and pleading whilst the spasms seized control of his muscle tight body. It was awfully hard to concentrate, more so with that strange beam of light sprouting from one of the folds in the Foothills' mountains blinding him worse off than he already was...

Without even realizing it yet, he'd found an answer to an unasked question of where the others might possibly be, but there he was unable to move an inch due to the fact that he was barely getting enough oxygen to his grieving lungs. With any luck, these foreign convulsions would slack up soon, and then he'd be able to venture his way up to see how many members of the Grey had been lucky enough to see such a beacon. In due time they did finally leave him, but as his trek began an unsettling feeling started to work its way up to the surface. Panzram had no idea where the heck he was or how to maneuver his way towards the streak of light. So he was basically blind! 

Miraculously though, he managed to pick his way rather nicely. If it hadn't been for the stream running down from the waterfall, where it was now obvious that, that was where the brightness was originating from, Panzram didn't think he'd have made it up safely- if at all. Hardly even a week had passed since Apollo had lead him into the Foothills, and even though he was of the adventurous sorts, he'd hardly even scratched the surface at exploration. 

Once topping the flat, only one familiar scent and voice was recognized amongst three distinct others. Gleeful that his friend had successfully made the journey to the beacon, Panzram slunk forward on weary limbs and gently nudged the black overo's shoulder with his muzzle. This was not how he'd pictured meeting Apollo again, and this definitely wasn't how he'd pictured his new life here starting out... but at least they were alive and they were safe, for however long that might be. With a deep sigh of suppressed sadness, he turned his distancing eyes upon a white figure expressing words about the situation just a few yards ahead that must have been Ophelia, one of the two leaders of the Grey. She was standing by another, much darker than she, whom had been called Mesec upon his arrival amongst the small group. It was only thanks to the painted man that he knew of Ophelia, and if she were here, Ktulu as well. 

As the ivory vixen carried on, Panzram found himself leaning in, trying extremely hard to hear her words more loudly as if that would bring her to tell them that everything would turn out just fine. His efforts were spent only to end up being futile, for she only spoke the truth, and the truth was that nothing was for certain. The Gods had disappeared. There was no sun and there was no moon, only darkness. All that they had was each other, and all that they had was hope (just as Ophelia had said). Glancing towards his horned friend, Panzram lifted the golden feathered wing closest to Apollo and stretched it out over his back. "Hope." The dark stallion was echoing right as the last member of their party, a dappled gray, headed towards an isolated pool of water. Her objectives were soon cleared with a very simple, flat statement. Magic no longer pulsed through those lucky enough to be blessed by the Gods powers. 

Things would be very different now, for some it would be excruciatingly hard. This would make or break a few, and determine the weak from the strong.