[Training] [se] dead language mystery

Deimos After assisting in the daemon hunt, the Sword and his party of companions opted to tread familiar grounds. It was almost comforting, to not be amongst the sand and surf, but adrift in the sea of seemingly endless grass, accompanied by moments and memories, tracing the foundations of where they’d wander next. And still, in some fresh instances, he caught himself wondering the exact same things since their banishment from Halo – repeating and reverberating the determination, the tenacious grind in his bones. To not give in. To keep forging onward, no matter how much the task loomed. The Last Step was known too, rising out of the hollowed, hallowed hills as ever-increasing stairs to the heavens, or nowhere at all. Deimos stopped there, proceeding to open his bag of holding, taking a second to rearrange his belongings, assess what was left, and where to meander from there. Belial took it upon himself to glide underneath stone awnings, unbothered by their latest exploits. Zuriel, however, remained on guard, standing with her head held high, ears pricked, twisting back and forth to catch bits and pieces of sound. It left him on the slightest of edges too, as if waiting for some other storm to begin. Maybe she’d caught wind of another amongst the world, and that was all there’d be to it. Out of sight and out of mind Make everything alright So let the sky and sea collide Just not in our lifetime