Blackfeather Woods they call it lonely diggin'

It all happened so fast, in the blink of an eye. One day far in the future, when time blurs all memories and turns tragedy into tales, perhaps those words will pass Morgana's lips. Perhaps she'll forget the eternity she spent in the second before that blink, the fine details etched into her memory with an accuracy that turns it to hours. Days. Forever, it feels like, stuck suspended in that single moment. The gurgling screams, the heavy sourness of blood and fear and death around her. Warm blood stinging her eyes, soaking into her muzzle and dripping down her neck. She knows she's next. She knows how this ends. Her eyes squeeze shut —
And in a blink, it's gone. The air turns damp and musky, ruffling her fur and whispering softly to her as it sweeps through the forest. Her eyes open to darkness, but she already knows where she is. She remembers little of the dark woods, but she could never forget the smell of it, the feel of it. She takes in a breath and marvels at the dryness of her fur, the hidden scar where a wound had been. Unaware of the gap in her memory and the time that has passed since the tragedy, the Melonii can only assume that this is the work of her god. In her time of need Mephala healed her, and brought her home. She only hesitates for a moment before she starts forward, intent on finding out why the woods are empty and what has changed since she left.

Ah! It's me

Blackfeather Woods. It was strange to see it finally empty. The last time he had visited, Maegi and Ramsay were leading a soft-reboot of their familial pack. But now? The land was torn and empty, perhaps looking more like how Meldresi had found it: a dark, quiet forest with nothing but the cries of crows and ravens echoing through it.

Ganondorf had long since shed the gods that his mother worshipped, part from true lack of belief, and part from immature spite. But some part of that superstition, perhaps etched in his bones, twinged when he saw his sister. Mephala was said to be pulling on the threads of mortals' lives, bringing them together and pulling them apart. Was this...? No. That didn't matter now. Sister? he said through the stone's receptacle, unsure of which of his twin sisters was standing there before him.