FENRER

The lighthouse raised from the center of the fortress, its limestone foundations carried granite masonry into high guard towers into shelter for cannons to take down Haneka's enemies who dared to come from the sea. Ancient weapons which exploded the toughest Derelict into temporary reformation. Through the first set of walls, Fenrer kept his distance from the coursing maelstrom Yuven gave form behind him. Reyn's housecarls escorted them to the castle proper. Doors opened. Bows given to the last Pyren. Pillars carved with dragon wings bloomed out a wolven set of jaws to cling onto the supports. Irritation dug a burr into his temples when Yuven scoffed at one last bow from one of the housecarls, though his Oathbound for once held his silence. Adara looked between them. Silver lilies wrapped vines through the broken pieces of starlight, but Fenrer bit down on his tongue and hated himself too.

Reyn waited for them in the throne room carved with scorched stone. Windows of arched glass revealed the storm which beat against the cliffs with its cruel sense of mercy. Upon his uncomfortable seat, Reyn sat up from his conversation with Gustul, who perked up to his full height and a wide smile. In a shadowed corner, Keeper Kalla, a quill in her hands as she wrote on a scroll. "King Reyn." Fenrer lifted a hand up to his chest and bowed. A sharp knife of agitation lodged itself between his spine when Yuven side-eyed him and refused to kneel. "A contingent of Storm Warden's have arrived at your behest with the aim of rooting out possible cult activity." His gaze trailed over to Kalla. "If you—"

"Any information you do have, it'd be prudent of you to share for your sake," Yuven bit and stepped forward into the center of the burning sun, and Fenrer dragged his teeth across the inside of his cheek when some of the housecarls tensed up. "You know first-hand what this cult will do and what it will unleash when given the requisite amount of power for their twisted sacrificial circles. I want to see a map of Haneka alongside a table of magick terrain. You want this cult rooted out, I'm your best bet for that. I will have Storm Wardens stationed within your guard — Fenrer has offered to be a part of that, do be sure not to get him killed from idiocy. There is no ifs ands or buts about this set of instructions."

Ever the diplomat. Fenrer straightened out his back when Adara slipped up to his other side. "It will also give us an opportunity to discuss the matter of Sungrove."

Reyn twisted to Kalla while she wrote, before nodding to Gustul who scampered away before descending the steps of the dragon throne. Scorched, melted metal to drip down its gnarled fangs. On equal ground, Fenrer released the pressure on his lungs when Reyn said, "You're free to stay in the old Pyren quarters during your stay here." He turned to Yuven, who spiked out his feathers. "You are also free to use one of the guest rooms if it would make your life easier. I do have a magick table and a map, any information, I'm afraid you will have to speak to Keeper Kalla."

"How pleasant of you, Your Grace." As always, venom dripped off the form of address when it left Yuven's lips. "Maybe you're not completely doomed after all. I am not to be disturbed while I work unless I come to you to keep you updated. Would hate to make you work too hard like us Storm Wardens." He side-eyed a housecarl who shifted. "And do be sure to remind your guard that I bite." He pointed at his pronounced fangs with his finger, before breathing out a cold plume and stomping for the doors, where two of the housecarls scrambled to get out of his way.

"Sorry about him," Fenrer mumbled.

"I don't take it personally — it's not a secret how Yuven feels about my position of power," King Reyn said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I've heard worse and been the recipient of harsher attitudes. In comparison, Warden Traye has a sense of duty to put most to shame, of which he has my respect, as I was never one for honeyed words either. Better to hear it straight than to not hear it at all until it's a dagger to my throat. Yuven's kind enough to bring out the dagger early. Some aren't so willing to show their sharpest weapons."

Blackwall's smile echoed out from shadows and drove auric leashes into Yuven's temples while he screeched. "Yes."

"Well! No point in hashing dreary topics at this point in time!" a booming voice sounded from the doors again. Gustul, making a return, and Reyn rubbed the bridge of his nose. "After all, the opposite of despair is joy and revelry, and as Hanekan's—" He slid past Adara with a grin. "We often pride ourselves in our ability to party. Leave it to me, little brother, I'll keep morale high and spirits energetic." Fenrer found a surprising grin crawling on his face when Gustul caught Reyn in a headlock with ease, who scowled up at him through his flyaway black hair compared to his older brother's autumn red hues. "You can't juggle everything — I don't think you can even juggle eggs. Speaking of, there was a guy at the Tipsy Dragon today—"

Beside him, Adara giggled. Auras brightened from their monochrome dismay. It wrapped around his body and smoothed out the flow of magick. Reyn wriggled out of Gustul's burly arm. "Thank you, Gustul. Feel free to talk to me about what happened at the Tipsy Dragon later," he said as he dusted off his leathers and chains. "I need to make sure the maps and magick terrain table are ready for Warden Traye's use."

"Ah, the statue that puts you to shame."

"Gustul," Reyn hissed. "They are our guests."

"Does not make him less of a statue."

Fenrer raised his hands. "Forgive my interruption, Your Highnesses." He coughed when Gustul wrinkled his nose at the form of address. "Your Grace," he corrected to Reyn, who smoothed out his hair. "I would like to talk about Sungrove as soon as possible and what it is you want from me as the last living Pyren."

The Lord of Sungrove, a heavy claim to hold on his shoulders, but he found comfort in the silver warmth when Reyn nodded. "We shall discuss that on the morrow. It is not an easy subject that I would not have you fall asleep to. It's getting late," he said with a nod at the distant setting sun. Fiery hues scattered across the thin clouds. "Familiarize yourself with the castle, and make sure Warden Traye is also satisfied."

If he'll even listen to me anymore... after all, I'm no better than those he hates the most. "On the morrow, then, Your Grace. Until such a time that we are recalled back to Euros to share our findings... I shall act in place of the Pyren seat upon your council, but do not expect much of me, I doubt I would have much to add — and I'm a Storm Warden first and foremost. I am sitting in to listen." With zero ability to lead and govern... and I'm his last chance at resolving the tensions in Goldwood. Any other time, he would've prayed for an answer, but it left a bitter taste to consider. There was no answer to the complex, bloody wound Reyn's predecessor left with the Desecration of Sungrove. "I think that's all on my end of things."

"Then... welcome home, Fenrer Pyren." King Reyn straightened himself out. "Take your ease. You are going to need it." He twisted to Gustul, who beamed. "If you're going back down to the Tipsy Dragon, see if you can't get information on anything happening outside of Sivaport. If it's Derelict related, be sure it goes straight to the Storm Wardens at the lodge."

"I always do." Gustul gave him a forehead flick, and Reyn drew back with a scowl. "I'll even do you one better."

"Such as?"

"You'll see." Gustul trotted out of the throne room with a wink at him and Adara.

Reyn facepalmed. "I'm sure I'm going to regret whatever he's about to do... not that I could control him," he muttered with a pulse of the storm clouds of his aura. "Have a good evening, Fenrer. I will send someone to retrieve you when I have everything in order as I am not going to approach the people of Goldwood a disorganized mess." He snapped his fingers at his housecarls, who departed from the throne room with the venomous Yuven Traye not within striking distance of their king. "They'll get used to Warden Traye's behaviour... I know he isn't my enemy, but we can't let this cult get any more ground, and on that front, Gustul is correct." Fenrer slid his lips between his teeth when Reyn squeezed his shoulder. "Keep all your eyes out."

"Of course."

King Reyn left with his housecarls and a powerful, certain, but no less tense stride.

It left only Keeper Kalla in the typical black cloak of her order, heading over to them, and he found himself inching forward to confront her, though stopped when she raised a hand. "You should know, Warden Pyren," she said as she curled her fingers around the scroll. "I have people watching Draken's Descent what with the chaos Dyrin will soon undergo — and the fact the area is magickally charged and was formed sometime around the Great Crimson Dusk; I thought it prudent to check there first and work our way inward."

"Should we not be looking in Sivaport?" Fenrer asked, keeping his guard up when it came to the secretive Order. "The cult attacked Hirishi in the middle of a city, I do not see why they wouldn't do it again if it's well within their capabilities."

Keeper Kalla looked between them. "It is wise to operate on the basis that your enemy could be inches away from you — but it is also wise to look ahead instead of getting lost in one's own paranoia," she pointed out. "Lots of blood was shed during the civil war, Fenrer Pyren... the cult might not need to do something so bold as to try and attack Reyn in his own city — no, I suspect what they'll do is try and draw him out and set the spark there."

Fenrer narrowed his eyes. "You seem confident about that. I don't have any reason to trust you or that your Order is somehow behind this."

"And you are letting your experience with Keeper Blackwall muddle you," she threw back with a smile. "Our Order's aren't so different. We both want to save this world." Keeper Kalla tucked the scroll in her robes. "All I can do is urge caution, and use those eyes of yours." She tapped her slender finger against the side of her own.

Fenrer clenched his fists when she went past them, though let her go in silence. Worlds shivered, but he broke out of his confusion when Adara cupped his elbow. "I'm alright," he stammered to the ripple of concern and unspoken words, then tried to shake himself through the wildfire of her thoughts, to not dig too deep, to not get too close then what the boundary allowed. His own weariness slammed into his bones even with the extra five bells he took to sleep. "Uh—" He stumbled on his words again as he clung onto her, for stability. Away from the arrows of fiery war. "Would you like... to stay with me?"

"Stay with you?" Adara went wide-eyed.

"Only for tonight... or if you want to stay longer I don't mind, I won't make you walk all the way back to the lodge... not alone, especially, after what happened." He rubbed the back of his head, but Adara stopped the movement by wrapping her fingers around his wrist. "And... I have less nightmares when... you're there. We're going to be plenty busy, like Reyn pointed out, we might not get much opportunity to spend time together," he found himself unable to stop the tide of words. In his own uncertainty and Yuven's cold gaze whenever he looked upon him for another Aurus' cruelty. I wasn't good enough. "I'll also ask Reyn if you can use the library, or point you in directions to any bookstores in Sivaport."

Adara raised her other hand with a smile. "Fen... relax," she whispered and touched his cheek. "I know this must be stressful but... you need more sleep. Of course I'll stay with you." Her warmth spread over his skin, and he tried not to melt into it and her own strength. "Just... don't use those opportunities as an excuse to avoid the problem between you and Yuven. It's the same as what I said back on Euros... if you do that you'll never fix it."

Fenrer winced. "I know." I just wish I had been strong enough to avoid this in the first place. "Right, we should head to the... Pyren quarters." Where... Dad used to be. Left to oblivion, he forced himself forward with no way to drag his soul back from the Obscura. Adara hung on his arm as he led her through the corridors, familiar from his time recovering from his stupidity and the sea. Bubbles rippled through his lungs, but he shook it out when he opened the door. Wolven shields sat on hooks against the walls, with the fireplace crackling already. Gulls cooed outside the small window nook, and he let Adara free to snoop through the bookshelves.

Tapestries curled along the walls, but he drew his gaze to the largest shield over the mantle, where Hanekan words lined the edges, all around, a movement of the sun.

The dawn must always come.