They had been forced to turn back the first time and for it Cthuhlu's wrath raged. It had been discord in the depths. Many of the other eldritch beasts fled the Dread One as his tyrannical anger spewed and exploded. Daoloth took to their newest kin, Zoth, and patrolled the connecting tunnels. Even Istasha had made herself scarce. It was like she'd disappeared entirely or never existed at all. Trepidation hung in the air, and Daoloth was suspicious that his sire may entice battle with the King in Yellow as word had spread that he too spawned underlings in preparation. Zoth welcomed the fight, all too eager. It was like their father in that way. Hungry for violence, constantly chomping at the metaphorical bit.

For some time things were this way, until the Dread One appeared to them all. One by one, lurking in the shadow expectantly, summoned for another mission. It was how they found themselves walking this same route again, as if it had been ingrained in Cthuhlu's memory. Zoth glowered down at the viscious dark liquid with an upturned lip, audits pinned. A skeletal servant materialized and vanished behind him, moving from shadow to shadow. Even Cthuhlu's undeead lackey was more apparent, and the note wasn't lost to the firstborn spawn.

They were collecting numbers for this excursion. Whatever lay on the other side, his sire demanded. Yet... Daoloth's eyes, the color of angry sea storms, looked to the dungeon around them. Would the forces that summoned their presence here, birthed Cthuhlu and Istasha from the very bowels of the depths itself, allow them such a victory?

Once again they came upon the room, and once again Cthuhlu marched down toward the sarcophagus. Istasha and Daoloth flanked, keeping well away on the higher stairs and inched towards the opposite exit. Zoth, on the other hand, followed the verdant and azure beast down towards the collecting, vile pool. He stared into the scabbed ooze, leaning so far over the stone edges of the sarcophagus he may trip and fall in. Daoloth wouldn't be remissed if it happened... still, he kept an eye on the situation.

"What is it?" The youthful spawn inquired towards their maker, their voice creeping and hinting at the growl it would eventually become.

Cthuhlu tore their gaze from the faintly irredescent pool, their chartruese eyes somehow burning. "A clue," his dark, rasping voice croaked into the dead silence.

Zoth even flinched, the stupor broken, as he glanced towards his sire. Though his lips parted to inquire, they closed. There would be no answers for him here, it was clear in the glower.