Cthuhlu stared down. Crude markings had been painted along the ground in frantic, if not maddened, etchings. The entirety of the circle was large enough for them and the other woman to stand in with room to spare. If they looked close enough, the sanguine marks pooled in coagulated lumps, implying the origin of the "paint". It held a familiarity yet remained a mystery, as Cthuhlu could not recall at any point in their life below the surface where he'd seen such markings. Though the inspection of their own by Fetch wasn't lost. They'd catch the flick of her gaze from the ground to his nape and hind leg in their own investigation. There was no relation, not in their opinion, seeing as he didn't have the bust of a Courser etched onto his body. That embellishment sat at the epicenter of the crude ritual circle - that had to be what it was, after all. Cthuhlu found himself staring into the centerpiece, mind whirling, oblivious now to Fetch's private investigation into their involvement.

It was so very faint, but a familiar smell rose from the center, though it was a whisper in their dream box. Cthuhlu couldn't quite place it but it dug incessantly into the back of their brain in a vicious roar of

          _{REMEMBER ME, REMEMBER ME, REMEMBER ME.}

Had their mind not been debatably lost already, the raking of claws upon his soul surely would have done the trick. A snap of their pthalo tail had their chartreuse eyes snapping toward the mercenary. She stared back at him with unemotive gray orbs that belayed a hollowness hidden below the aloof exterior. To Fetch's credit, she held the Dread One's gaze despite his behemoth bulk shadowed so menacingly by the harsh lighting of the furnace. Though a query never left her lips, it was obvious she poised the same curiosity as Cthuhlu, and perhaps even hoped they'd share their thoughts.

A snort left their nostrils as he dismissed the female, turning his hindquarters to her to continue inspecting the ritual circle drawn in what could only be blood. The original thought was Hastur, but his putrid scent was nowhere to be found. Besides, the maniac would have left a calling card if it had been his handiwork and there was no such thing. Something was going or had already happened here, and if Cthuhlu's lifetime in the dungeon had taught them anything, he and his kin were no longer alone. Again his orbs rose, scanning the dark burgundy stones surrounding them, checking every cranny or window of ruin or stalagtite. No one was watching them save the volcanic bats fluttering and screeching above.

"Perhaps we should leave..." Fetch's tone was light, almost like a murmuring wind, one that could easily be covered by the drone of the lava burning in the lakes below.

"You can if you'd like." They responded immediately, once more a brush of their tail swiping Fetch away. She wasn't needed, nor wanted, here.

They could feel her eyes burning into his back, a frigid sear that bid them turn. They refused, still staring at the symbology. It was old magic, ancient even... summoning. In a heartbeat, they felt their mind propel to another time. To cold waters and darkness, to a time where there had been none previous. It had been the first time they'd opened their eyes, the first time they witnessed their watery womb. Cthuhlu tried to steer the memory, but it wasn't a dream where one could assume any sort of control. As quickly as the whisper from the past manifested, it vanished. Yes... something had been born here, something from the dungeon itself, and whatever's life had been sacrificed to complete it.