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There was a slight dash and a single swing, after that the beast had fallen to the ground. Ark waited until he felt the essence leave the creatures body before sheathing his sword and continuing his journey through the wilderness. the old yet familiar feeling was growing stronger, and he knew his journey was almost over.

The further one traveled from Haven, the less civilized the world became. . .or perhaps it was the reverse? It always seemed like some greater power was at work directing everything and anything that might cause trouble towards Haven. As this thought came into his head he came to a halt.

"Who decided it was a good idea to name it "Haven" anyway?!"

He looked around as if expecting a response from the nothing that was around him, dissatisfied with the lack of an answer he continued on his way. As he marched onward through the dense brush it was not much longer before he KNEW he was at his destination.

A faint smile played at the corner of his mouth. the weather was indeed warm, but here, here it was as if winter had decided it was not leaving. there was no snow, but it was freezing and a single icicle hung from a branch in front of him, he slowly circled it and continued on his way, more and more began to appear on his path, until the woods revealed its source.

The trees parted revealing a small clearing. in this clearing was a small farm, a single field to plant and harvest food, a small shed, and a house proper complete with a porch and a single rocking chair. smoke came out of the chimney and a silhouette moved in the houses windows.

Ark walked up to the chair, and considering the long journey he had just taken, on foot, sat down in the chair and began to rock back and forth. He had heard movement in the house, but when the chair began to rock and creek, the movement came to a sudden halt. . .

It was the little construct made of sticks and mud that noticed the noise first which prompted it to begin jumping up and down, pointing out front. Given that out here in the wilderness there were few enough bodies to animate to use as farm hands, she had once again crafted her own. The little spriggands saw to most of the manual labor of the little farm, freeing her time to attend to her magical research. Though the farm was small, it was still more work than one could really do alone and survive. Relenting to the little construct’s insistence, she set aside preparing her evening meal to see what had bothered the thing so.

She drew on her cloak and stepped onto the porch, still in some need of repair. A mean estate for one who had once been born a princess of her people. But that had been so very long ago, and the events that led her to her current state had solidified that that life was gone forever. She had decided to be content with her lot, as the alternative had been death. Keen eyes slid past the figure of Arc rocking in the chair.

Again? I thought I was over the waking dreams…

Her internal voice was annoyed with herself. She had seen the likeness and presence of so many of those to whom she had been close in the last year. Her mind had been somewhat fractured by her brother’s tender affections after he had stolen her out of the bed of her chosen companion to ‘assess if she remained worthy of returning home.’ A powerful mage in his own right, he had spell locked her beloved’s mind that he would not be overly troubled by her absence… though there had been a part of her that had hoped him strong enough to see through it. Long and dark had been the weeks and months of her… reunion. Never overly tied to the physical world to begin with, her mind had for a long time taken to creating an alternate reality for her. She had often seen, even had whole conversations, with those about whom she had once cared, only to learn they were not there. It had been a month or more, though, since the last occasion, and she had hoped that was a sign she was finally healing.

She pursed her black painted lips and shook her head, turning to go back inside. She didn’t even pause when the figure spoke. After all… her hallucinations often did.

Ark looked the figure over, and finally allowed the smile to overtake him. Though he was puzzled at the reaction he received and his mind instantly raced through countless reasons. was she mad? did she remember? had something happened? is this a trap? is it not actually her? what could he do?

Finally he stood as she turned to enter her residence. he pulled a book out of his satchel. it was fairly old but in good condition, it had a necklace wrapped around it, black cord with a metal emblem on it inscribed with the picture of a wolf. it clearly did not belong to him.

"We two are all that remain. . .look at me, Vaun."

with that he tossed the book through the air at her.

How many times had she seen him? A score? Or Noble, Voxx, Thoeon… Legion... precious Malachi? All of them haunted her like ghosts. Some of them actually were. Once, for a single moment… she had been happy. She had chosen to let go of the idea of returning home to Vau’Xannon Nor and had instead thrown herself into making Avenguard her home. Though most of the people there had hated her, as she was never overly good with social interactions and the feelings of others, she had had her wolves, Sanguis Lupus, the brothers… her consort… and her coven. She’d even let herself think of that rag-tag collection of misfits into which she had found meaning, purpose, as family.

But, nothing in life lasts. She knew, she had always known. It had all fallen apart, uncertainty and sorrow leading to despair and betrayal. For one moment she hadn’t been strong enough to face a loss, that of Theon, and so she had taken time away. Or rather, Malachi had escorted her out of town ere she slew Noble in her grief-stricken madness. More dominoes fell… leading to the murders of Voxx and Arc, her beloved wolves. She had never really recovered, and it was the grace of her partner alone that kept her madness and wrath from causing her to slaughter everything in her path in the name of vengeance.

Quiet had fallen… and for a while she had been content, if a little numb. Malachi urged her to attend to her spell research once more, something she had loved, and to begin chronicling her Seer’s dreams and visions. It had been enough.

Even that did not last.

Nu’Adain Tal had come… and so much that followed was still a chaotic mess of what was real and what had been but tortured illusion.

Just like Ark, loyal, clever, witty Ark… looking for all the world as if he lived and breathed. When he tossed the book, she just sighed and tried as best she could to ignore it. Giving in to the haunting specters would do her no good. The little stick man, no taller than her hip, bent down as best he could, however, and picked up the book. His little button eyes would have looked confused if they could have done. It trotted after its mistress and when she turned to close the door, held the tome for her to take.

That is new, she thought in bafflement for a long moment. In all this time, the constructs had never interacted with her hallucinations. Unless…?

“Ark?” Her voice was a disbelieving whisper, her face a mask of fear. It was too much to believe that this time… this time her dead friend might be real…

As the book landed on the ground with a thud instead of being plucked from the air as Ark had hoped he simply looked down at it with no emotion. this place, this person, the magic, the appearance. . .everything he saw and felt screamed at him that this was Vaun. His mind raced and within seconds had run through different scenarios and reasons for what was going on.

then as the little being, made from sticks and straw, fumbled and picked up the book. . .holding it up to its master is if to say "I did good?" he saw the expression on Vaun's face change. he held out hope that was soon confirmed as she whispered his name. all fears and doubts vanished, this was Vaun, and she remembered him.

His posture changed to that of great confidence, like he just destroyed an army. he lifted his head and gave a wolfish smirk, he swept his hand across the air in front of him in an overly dramatic fashion.

"Yes that's right, Vaun, this Blood Wolf has returned."