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Finn-att, though hesitant at first, followed Itztlac's direction through what he called 'streets'; his surroundings still amazed, baffled, and disturbed him, but the power of the stone assured him that it was only a dream, and as a dream he could come to no harm. As a dream, it would all disappear in good time. Dreams didn't always make sense, so he left off his efforts to make sense of this one.

After awhile the centaur grew less suspicious, less jumpy, and even began to walk with confidence over the strange stone pathways...cracked in places, painted in yellow and white. The sheer absence of any other living being as he travelled reinforced the belief that he was dreaming.

Stop, Itztlac whispered suddenly.

"Here?" Finn question, pausing. "What's here?"

To your left.

He looked accordingly, and saw a structure different from the others in that it was entirely black and set with statues - what a fortune such works must have cost, and so large they were!

Go in the doors. You do know what doors are, don't you? There was more than a little condescension in his voice.

"Of course I know what doors are," Finn grumbled. He'd encountered actual doors all of once in his life, and remembered them to be a most literal pain in the a**. Nonetheless, he went and opened them, moving awkwardly into the dim interior of the building.

Finn-att could only watch in horrified amazement at the frighteningly terrible scene before him. He had scene nothing like it before in either reality or nightmare until now. And that...that thing, that cursed excuse for insect. It had none of the sleek, muscled grace and power of Finn's own kind. "Abomination," he hissed under his breath, unable to help himself.

This is not my idea of a harmless dream, Itztlac, he thought, gaze now locked on the throned figure.

Trust,the voice said again, And move forward. You will not be harmed. Or at least, probably not much, if the centaur wasn't foolish.

He grimaced, but stepped forward.

Finn's long ears flicked back in his uncertainty; he was not one who had ever learned the art of mastering his body language. When he felt something, it usually didn't so much as occur to him to hide it. Everything about this man - if he could call it that - and this place put him ill at ease. It showed in the shifting of his feet, clopping against the floor and stirring up the ash.

"My presentation?" he questioned, unsure what was meant by that. And how did this thing know his name? But then, if this really was a dream, then of course it was possible, since that would mean it was all in his head. This felt so terribly real, though.

He knows everything. Trust him.

You're telling me to trust something that looks like that? I have heard much better advice in my time.

"Who are you?" Itztlac was offering up no explanations, not even any hints, and so Finn asked for himself. "What is all this? Why?"

Elder, God, Ruler, Destruction. Words that could have meant much or little. Finn had no idea how much they did mean, not until the being that called itself Harmodius came down from his throne. The truth then became terribly clear, undeniable in the horrific display that was the god's shifting of form to something less foreign and ultimately more terrifying.

He swallowed hard, backing several steps as Destruction approached - a move both respectful and fearful, but there was something of anger in his eyes. "Destroyer," he acknowledged in a voice filled with confidence that was more bluff than true. "Why does Itztlac make me dream of you?"

His trust of the power within the stone began to wane, as it had told him to trust the Destroyer himself. Who could be that foolish?

Night. Night? No! He served the Sun, and only the Sunlord could own him! He belonged to no other, above all not to the Nightrunner, enemy of Finn-att's god. "No!" he cried, rising slightly on his hind legs in a moment of defiant aggression. "I would never break my oaths!"

And yet in all his defiance, his heart sank and his mind was uneasy. He had begun to doubt everything that had happened to him of late. Reality, dream, truth, lie? "You are the Destroyer! How can I trust you?"

How could he have trusted Itztlac? Tiss-arr Fovv?

The proud warrior balked at the booming command, unable to help backing further. Some things even he was not foolish enough to challenge. Shocked into awed and frightened silence, he could do nothing but listen.

Everything Finn-at was wanted to disbelieve, strained to see lie instead of truth, but he could not. The Destroyer was right - he could feel it in his bones, and knew it by the silence Itztlac kept. The centaur was young and in his prime, but suddenly he felt old. Old and weary of the world, wishing for all the turmoil within and without to stop.

"But how?" he asked hoarsely. "Tiss-arr owes no allegiance to the Night. He is the Lightbearer's, he would not..." Illumin? Was that the true name of Light?

The Destroyer, this...Twin Crown he did not understand...Tiss-arr served him? Finn-att served him? It seemed impossible, terrible. Every bit as impossible someone reading his mind, and yet here it had been done. Finn had no more to ask - no more will to ask, lest even more of his perceptions be shattered.

In those long moments, the god from the stone snaked upward and spoke through him, "He will need somewhere to live in the meantime, my Lord." Itztlac wanted to be close, close to where the power was, to where other gods gathered...he did not much care for Finn's little world and its little ways.

Itztlac kept Finn-att carefully back, not ready to let go just yet. The centaur was stubborn and strong, but had little finesse, and it proved moderately easy to maintain control while ascending the stairs after Harmodius. He was, indeed, very glad that the steps were so wide; he was less than fond of his host's unwieldy body.

He smiled with pleasure at the of the door to his room, brushing Finn's rough fingers against the scene. "It is good to be home, Lord. Very good."