the prophet and the child had settled into their camp site for the night, nestled between the edge of the elysian highlands and the foothills. their fire shone brightly, illuminating their weary faces and flickering across their gear. the suits were hot on their trail, and today had been too close for comfort. tonight, they licked their wounds and counted their blessings.

before they descended into sleep, they told stories and legends of times past, of ancient elysian heroes and beings beyond their wildest dreams. in those stories of old, they each found a bit of themselves, growing closer to a shared humanity and mind. the fear and worry of the days melted into joyful imagination and courage for the dangerous road ahead.