Lokus wandered the new valley for a while, the sun sinking ever so slowly beneath the lip of the valley's head with no exit to be found.
'Am I truly stuck down here?' He asked himself, not really expecting an answer.
Ibmund's mind brushed against his own right then, carrying the hint of an answer.
'Oh?'
He looked down at the mask in his hand with a raised brow. The fact that he could hear Ibmund with just skin-on-mask contact was less interesting than what the demon had to say.
Lokus couldn't tell what the demon's exact meaning was since Ibmund lacked a language, and thought instead in short bursts of images, emotions, and vague ideas. But he was able to understand just enough to realize the gist of what Ibmund was attempting to convey.
His Egone showed him images of a way to the surface, one Ibmund had found during its time away from its master shortly before starving to death.
