If I didn't feel so alive right now, I'd probably be upset that she's faster than me. She makes her turns with mechanical precision, always less than a paw's length from the wall. Her gaze, always set ahead, is sharp. There's something about the way she holds herself that implies not just confidence, but a certainty of success. It's as if she can't fail, and when I'm beside her, I almost believe it.

Even after all these failed missions, my heart still soars when we run.

"Obsidians." I say, choking out the one word over the sound of my lungs attempting to collapse beneath me.

"Won't be any." she promises. "I know their routine schedules, when they'll walk through here, when they'll check each hall..."

"Security cams?"

"Oh, you think we're going slow enough for them to catch up." she tells me. She says it not as some kind of joke, but with same definite air of authority.

An Obsidian could rush the hall right now, taking any form it so desires, and attempt to kill us outright. She wouldn't stop. I know it naturally as I breathe. Whatever she wants, whatever they made her for, must be a matter of impossible importance, because why else would they take such a risk? Why else would they create something with such raw, incredible power?

They have made an arrow that can shoot through any substance. She will move onwards until she hits her target and likely keep going, taking anything that dares pass her with her.

Incredible fear and respect shake me, make me shiver as I run, even as my whole body radiates a thick heat from the adrenaline.

Slim as an arrow, and just as fast, she turns another corner. The lights here lack the consistency of those of the rest of the Factory, flickering on and off at will, and prints from creatures of all walks of life stain the wall, leaving a coat of blood like rust on the floor. Some speak of desperate struggle, but others of triumph. Either way, it's old blood. The Obsidians would have cleaned it by now.

Both of us look behind us to see if anyone is following. The hall behind is clean, well-lit, and still less inviting than the ominous passage ahead. There's no denying it- this must be the realm of the Hellhound, or at least her outer borders. Iris's decrease in speed informs me my hunch is correct.

"If anyone gets close, we run another lap to throw them off." she tells me.

"You can't throw an Obsdian off," I say. "If anyone gets close, we find a way to stall them and run further in, to potential safety."

Iris's eyes narrow, but she mutters, "One hundred," under her breath.

"Yes?" I ask, assuming the number has something to do with me.

"I am weighing the odds of your superior experience over my current bank of knowledge," she says. "To be brief, we'd be doing this either way, but lead on."

"Thank you?" I ask.

Her eyes, cold as an Obsidian's claws, fix mine. We go on.

The blood stains disappear from the halls, but there are still hints of natural life here and there- crumbs of food, fur, luckily nothing no more natural than that. There are no corpses either, which is a good sign, but the walls are dented in some places and burned or eroded in others. Acid and fire have been used here. There have been struggles, disputes over land, and since they haven't been cleaned, it's likely they ended in a victory for the Hellhound's troops.

Resistance in a place like this seems impossible. Staggering. Just the thought of being allowed to keep the remains of our battles is bizarre. Still, I know all of this must be real when I see the symbol up ahead, emblazoned over what was once a control panel. The Sorrowful Lily in all its glory withers away before me, the three petals burning into nothingness as their embers drift upwards.The action is clear even when it's nothing but molten metal carved painstakingly into a wall, even hastily. It is a symbol full of such passion that even Iris's eyes water. I feel mine fill with salt as well.

"Kin of our kin, do you share in our sorrow?" a voice echoes from down the hall, making Iris and I turn. A many-limbed anthropoid speaks in a foreign, hissing voice, as it approaches.

"Children of our children, will you share in our triumph?" Another, higher tone calls from the other direction. Eight wings flare out behind a white, glorious creature, whose limbs are still shackled to the ground despite molten silver spots from what must be attempts to burn the chains off.

"Hope of all closely-clutched hopes, will you not fight onwards?" More creatures appear from every corner, filling the halls, all their heads dipped as they approach the lily before us. The symbol itself begins to smoulder. I feel a deep fear raise inside me and embers flicker up around my neck, despite attempts to calm them and by extension, myself.

"We who have nothing left burn in her name. She who burns in the name of her everything lights one flame and casts out all darkness."

Iris joins in the speech to recite the last three verses, deeply and solemnly as I've heard others mumble holy words from their original language.

"The light of a sun will shine upon our backs, in this life or the next."

"The waters of an ocean will rush beneath our limbs, in this life or the next."

"The air of a world that breathes will swim within our lungs, in this life or the next."

From the lot of them, one being staggers forth. It is a dragon, their horns scarred across many times over, and they say to the symbol, "The Hellhound approaches."

A crack forms in the wall, which slides open into a room that is dark save for a few flames, contained in bottles, as well as an overhead light. It flashes on when the doors slide out all the way, casting light on a massive canine almost doubly larger than Iris and I.

The Hellhound is just as impressive as the legends. Two massive horns rise on either side of her head, crowning her blunt muzzle and verdant eyes. Her ears don't perk like Iris's and my own, instead, they fall from the sides of her head, ending in a mess of furze that settles around her neck. Her muscled body and long pelt gleam with power even though she's unkempt, and the scars lacing her legs and side only made her look more formidable. Smoke trails from her mouth, a soft stream of smoke that rises to nothingness on the open air and dissipated, leaving only the distant scent of something unfamiliar to the Factory, thick and yet unmistakably fresh.

"You're back," she mutters, concern in her eyes unlike anything I've ever seen between two prisoners, and even her resting voice shakes everyone assembled. "Thank Verhamera- and there are more of us."

Verhamera, that's a holy word too. That's a god, a deity, an ancestor-something. It is whispered with reverence, and I shake all the way down to my core, until the fire in my chest quakes, because if this is what I suspect it is, this is like none I've ever heard uttered-

This one is mine.

"To all those assembled- I will be out briefly. We'll discuss plans then, but for the moment, I must talk with these individuals. They're my kindred."

The whole crowd mumbles before stepping away, allowing Iris and I to walk into the darkness. The door closes behind us, and the Hellhound shoots up an orb of fire, which balls up in on itself and flickers around the half a broken light above us, trying to hold the same light the working Obsidian system must have. At times, it is accompanied by the non-broken light, which gives a halfhearted gleam before descending back into darkness.

"It's generated by members of our own ranks," the Hellhound explains, "We rerouted the power. Makes us harder to track. We've been here for a good month, so we're nice and cozy." Her tone is casual now, and her green eyes flick across both of us like we're supposed to answer in some meaningful fashion.

My lungs are hardly drawing air. I'm not saying anything.

"I bought him, like you asked." Iris looks about the room, the same cold glare in her eyes. "Is this tribute? There are body parts in this room. Minor ones, given, but still, body parts."

Iris, what are you doing?! I think as loudly as possible. True to her word though, there are piles of small things- scales, fur, even something resembling an insectoid leg- piled in various places in the room, close to piles of ash. The room even holds the afterscent of something nasty being burned, albeit cloaked in arrays of scents I have no name for, vague and confusing ones.

"I swear, I didn't mean for them to worship me like this. The chant was entirely on Aur'eal... she's the dragon, by the way. Those are for the dead, or those soon to be dead, which could be any of us. Many of the species here had rituals involving the burial or burning of the dead on their homeworld, but the Obsidians don't give bodies back- where do you think they get the meal they serve their prisoners? Those who wish it can give up something small to burn, so that they have the solace of knowing that they'll be remembered in some meaningful capacity or that their spirit can move on." The Hellhound sighs. "This is not important, at the moment. I've found you, that's what matters."

"Us?" I ask. "Are we really the only ones from our homeworld?"

The Hellhound nods. "Dreamland," she says, and the longing in her voice is like the last flickers of a dying fire.

"We were made here," Iris says, bowing her head. "We're not true Dreamlandians- I am sorry to disappoint you. We will still serve in any way we can."

"Nonsense." the Hellhound snarls, and every fur on my back raises. "I came here from the distant past, jumping through time to try to complete my mission to save my home from the threat of these beings. I learned later that my quest was never to be completed, and that the world I knew had long since vanished. I can't return to that past, but I learned stories here- stories of how the Obsidians had tried and failed to create our kind. They can not imagine the kind of complexity, the ancestral magics, that run within our blood. For whatever reason, you lived, so it is as if Verhamera has deigned you so. You are real- I can see it in your eyes."

She wants so desperately to believe it that I do too.

"Furthermore," she continues, "I've heard other stories. Across time and space, across worlds, there is one legend that has been passed down long as the Factory has existed. In a time of great turmoil, a single duo emerges- a couple of fire and light, as you two stand before me- and bring great change. I was part of one such couple, and though the light of my life has long since gone, I see before me two young Canira with potential to finish what we started. If we could get you to Dreamland, you might yet be able to turn the tides of their war and bring down Nethera herself."

"You... you could get us home?" I ask, shocked.

"It would be risky beyond all belief, but we have the resources to attempt something of this scale. You might be our last hope, our last rallying cry into the darkness." she says. "It's a lot of pressure for two so young, I know. While it all lines up in your favor, I won't resent you for abstaining-"

"We're in. We're in, we're in, we're in." I say. Home fills my throat and my heart, home grows from a small smark into a blazing fire. Iris, too, gives a swift nod, her ice blue eyes catching mine and brimming with enthusiasm.

"Good. I'm dealing with real warriors." The Hellhound laughs.

"T-thank you, oh great Hellhound..." I continue, half-believing she's some kind of demigod myself. I'm in a submissive, bowing posture before I know what I'm doing. I might be more appropriate to say I crumbled down onto my paws.

The Hellhound touches her nose to my chest, helping me back up. Her eyes, which shine the green of forests and vegetation I've yet to know, with all the things and all the life I've yet to see, reflect mine. I feel small but at the same time I've stepped into something massive. Reeling with excitement, I try not to fall again, and her smile grows solemn. "My name is Vivian." she tells me. "Call me that."