The upcoming harvest meant increased responsibilities for everyone, and Feronia did as expected in order to sort and prepare the ceremonial garb as well as refresh himself on the speech and steps he'd need to take for that upcoming festival as well. Day in and day out, each action was planned and gone through in an ordered loop that had him never idle. The only inkling he might have had that something was going wrong was the increased watch on him, as well as the dwindling lack of other Feronians that were coming to aid in the preparation of things.

It wasn't in him to ask questions as long as he had something to do, and he had things to fall back on, so he kept focused even as things seemed to change day by day. There was a tension he couldn't understand in the air; had he not been doing well enough, were the garments not in order? Taking a sewing kit out, he went over every stitch and seam to make sure it was impeccable. Once that was done he even began to clean things over than had been cleaned by the others. Whatever he could do to make sure things went according to plan and that nothing would be left to blame on him for going wrong.

When the day came that they all approached him, looking weary and concerned, he felt like he had done something wrong, something terribly wrong. But with the assurance that he hadn't, that it was just time for a different ceremony, one that would normally happen much later in his life, he nodded solemnly and accepted things.

If it was time for a new Feronia, time for him to rest, even though he had only been the senshi for a handful of years compared to the last Feronia, he had no reason to go against those words. Of course, they knew what was best; they'd watched and guided him even before he'd become the senshi.

So in the silence that loomed as they prepared different garments, he tried to focus on how this would help the world, the people, and continue making sure things were alright. It wasn't his place to ask questions, even as they put the wreaths of flowers over his shoulders and led him below.

In the darkness down there, he felt an uncomfortable feeling, not of failure but of fear. It was darker than he had ever experienced, and the place where he was meant to rest was cold and small. This feeling that he needed to run kept trying to bubble up, even as they ushered him to that stone tomb.

The drink they offered him tasted sweet but had something strong lingering beneath it. After they took the chalice back and had him lying down, that need to run was fighting against a new feeling, that heavy haze that was trying to smother them as the sound of stone on stone shattered the silence.

His arms felt heavy, and that encroaching darkness scared him even if he was supposed to be okay with things. But as time seemed to slow and the last bits of light vanished as the lid was sealed, Feronia felt himself slipping away into that darkness.

To see something other than darkness, to even see something ever again, that was what had Feronia snapping to as something else had changed. Broken stone lay over him, the most recent large piece being what had broken him free from the darkness. It wasn't bright by any means, but what little light was now there helped him come to. Above him, he could see through what had once been a ceiling, now eroded by weather to allow the outside in. Fallen rocks were scattered all around, and as he struggled and hauled himself to sit up, he noticed how eerily silent it was.

Panic set in his chest; had he failed even at this? What had happened? It had him stumbling and trying to climb to his feet. Something pulled at him, not anything he could recognize, but he needed to look around here first. Only stones and dust remained; hundreds of other stone tombs were down here, with some having been similarly crushed as his had been.

The further he went, the more confusion and worry he felt. There weren't signs of anyone from what he could tell. An odd smell seemed to permeate everything, especially as he stepped outside. The air was thick with something he didn't recognize, and the realization that more than a few moments had passed was starting to settle in. The forests and trees that once stood tall were dead and dry, and the buildings that had stood for generations now looked like they were crumbling from centuries of abandonment. The people were just gone, his directions and knowledge had nothing for this situation, and he couldn't fight the feeling that something had gone terribly wrong.

Again, he felt that tug, urging him forward even as he wanted to just stay here until someone showed up or he was able to find out what to do next. If something was broken or messed up, there had to be something he should be doing to fix things. Picking through the debris, he found one of the books of ceremonies, at least it looked like it at first. It was something at least, even if the cover was caked in mud and he was afraid to try opening it at the moment.

Moving with that tug, he felt himself being pulled further and further from all that he knew, and just like before, he felt anxious about the uncertainty of it. It wasn't something written in the verses he knew, that he was sure of, but he did know there must be something he had to do to fix things. There had to be a reason he was still alive when he hadn't seen anyone else or any bodies, as he had left where they'd laid him to rest.

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