The world had fallen into cold and darkness. Snow was nearly a fabled event, one that happened rarely in the desert land from which the physician hailed. Now the sky screamed. Snow swirled in all directions, hiding the horizon line behind a global white haze.

It was the end. What else could it be?

Thinking was already and arduous tasked when chilled to the bone, now he had to contemplate the future that would never be. He would never practice medicine again. Iufni would not grow in a hale, young man. Myyrh would not see the spring to test nature's splendor for all of the cruel and clever ways it punished those too eager to experiment.

The half-wolf was not given the time to mourn this development. A voice that had long since whispered into the darkness behind his eyes had now grown strong enough to stand before him.

The Dream Visitor presents an ugly truth. A horrid history that spiraled into the calamity he—no, everyone— faced. The Visitor then delivers a choice.

Choose one of three doors. Fight this end; be it with your voice, your strength, or your very being.

The path of the healer.

The path of the warrior.

The path that may ask everything of you.

Setka was not a man blessed by the gods. He was not gifted with strength greater than what his mixed heritage would otherwise suggest. He was not whole. He already had so much taken from him. His mentor, his peers, his very flesh and bone. Setka had suffered at the hands of those stronger than himself. Those of divine and noble descent.

He could not give any more.

The remaining choice was perhaps the most obvious. It was a physician's oath to heal their patient.

But how did one heal the land?

The question crossed his mind as he stepped over the thresh hold. Delivered to a place of eternal dark, the cruelest of winters raged with lashing winds and pelting snow. It nearly blew the three legged man over, the cold rooting his remaining legs into the earth.

If circumstances were different, he very well would have died here. But the strange world Setka had fallen into had its magic. It was there, the unexplainable lie pulsing within the earth. The power of gods, monsters, and spirits alike lived in this land. Its truth beyond the comprehension of mortals such as himself.

But Setka understood what this dark expanse asked of him. Even if he hadn't, there were other that had begun the song. Voices both old and young. Voices both resentful and reverent. Voices of both canines and beasts. Voices laced with various accents as all gathered turned their voices skyward.

He recognizes the song of the sun priests. Those trained to greet Ra on his daily voyage across the sky. Heaven's Mercy is also present. Her Majesty's voice resolute in opening the sky.

Setka does not approach these familiar voices. Head craning to the sky, his narrow muzzle suffered a barrage of ice as he bared himself to the heavens. 

How long had it been since he last prayed? He couldn't remember.

So Setka pleaded.

He sang for the divine traveler to show himself once more. The friend to all, the bringer of warmth and light and health. How long had the sun hidden away, now? The sun that rose each day, even if perhaps the clouds hid it from view. The sun that had seen and known him his entire life. It had been too long since they last met. He wished for Ra to know him once more. And if Ra had enough of the half-breed physician? Well, Setka begged for him to return, if only so that Ra may know Iufni and Myyrh. Those whom he cherished most.