William Blackmoon frowned as he closed the door behind him. The night breeze was brisk and refreshing yet left a scale of dust on his proper attire. He bared his canines briefly as he frowned at the dusty sleeve of his jacket.

"Bleeding filth," he muttered as he wiped his hand over his clothes, primping himself to appear more acceptable to the eyes that would pay him a careless glance.

A decade gone, a brief return, and full-out war finally pushed him back to this place. He draped his coat over the rack and glanced at the two wolves that flanked his sides. They growled lowly at the place. These two never liked new places.

I'll be fine, the wolf-lord sent to them in mindspeech. I'm a stranger returning home. I doubt my enemies will be waiting in the shadows.

William made a smooth arc through the common area as he walked. His fiery violet eyes took in the detail of every patron he passed. He wondered if his daughter would really meet him here like she had promised.

Winter, his daughter, would he recognize her" Would she recognize him' It had been a decade, more or less, probably more than less, since he had laid eyes on his first-born and then it was only the image of her back as she took the reigns of the Pack and took them all out of his life.

He stopped before the fire and stared into its angry, cracking flames. His hand slid into his pocket where he grazed his fingertips across the silver circlet he once wore as a healer. After the slaughter of hundreds, he couldn't bear to place it upon his brow in good faith. Oh well, life has a way of turning you in many directions.

After the brief pause to chase the chill from his bones, William circled the common room again. This time he took up residence at the bar. He dared not find the booth that had been all too familiar to him when he lived just outside of town. The memories were sweet but painful and stank of the time before he changed, when he was strong and sure and obeyed the Light despite living with the Dark.

"Miss her?" a cool, sensual voice tickled his ears.

William glanced down at his empty scabbard then growled. His eyes slid to the temptress sitting beside him and he bared his canines again. How he hated this woman, if you could call her such.

"Leave me," he grumbled to the demoness.

Nightfell's laugh was dark and melodic and needled him to the core. It was hard to believe that he had survived for so long tethered to the demoness in their twisted, symbiotic relationship. Though he had become used to her antics, she still irritated him to no end.

"I'm sure your precious Cayt has moved on," Nightfell chided.

"I'm here for my daughter," he spat.

"Oh' Which one?" she purred. "Winter, the one you tried to kill once and forced out of your life" Or Aurora, the one you never let into your life in the first place?"

Her words stung with blazing truth. Perhaps one day he would let guilt get the best of him and finish the job so many enemies had failed. William felt her hand brush over his shoulder and across his chest then he snapped at her as she plucked the tiny scroll from his breast pocket.

"Father," Nightfell read in an overly sarcastic, childish voice. "The Pack is falling apart. Roanoke has abandoned us and the Darkness chases us to the four corners of the world. I need to see you. The Pack needs their true leader back. Meet me in the Red Dragon Inn."

William and the demoness were silent for a while.

"You'll destroy them if you return," she said.

"Yeah, I know..."

"Winter," William whispered in shock.

When his daughter withdrew her hand there was a bitter coldness that coalesced around them. Neither had the urge to wrap their arms around the other in missing. Their reunion was far from heartwarming but it was still a reunion.

"We need you," Winter said softly. "Our situation is much more dire than in my message."

"I doubt my return to the Pack will help," he said after a pause and shake of his head.

"They need your strength and your leadership, father," Winter rebutted. She caught a glimpse of movement by the front door. Two wolves, Darkwolves, with blazing yellow eyes, stalked toward them. Winter growled and drew her blade. She looked at her father then to the wolves again and readied to lash out and slay the evil beasts.

William stood from his stool and positioned himself between his daughter and the wolves. He could hear the breaths escalate in Winter as the beasts drew closer. He closed his eyes and prayed for the strength to endure his daughter's disappointment.

The Darkwolves stopped at his feet and he bent down to run his fingers through the fur between their ears. When he turned, his daughter's face was a ghostly white. Her eyes were wide in shock and her jaw trembled speechlessly.

"They're mine," William said in a little more than a whisper.

"But?"

"I've changed," he said, mentally dismissing his guards to take up their previous perches near the front.

"But," she started. Her knuckles were white with strain as she held onto her sword still. "How" Why?"

"Because I've made my share of enemies in this world," he explained, "and like me, these wolves kill with no regret and no remorse, something the Guardian's weren't created to do."

"But it's wrong!" she shouted.

A number of patrons glanced over at them. A few decided they were sitting a little too close for comfort and moved tables. But none of them even hinted at interfering with their father-daughter spat. It was probably a good thing too. The barkeep probably wouldn't have liked cleaning up unnecessarily.

"But it's what I am," he replied somewhat coldly.

The two bared their canines at each other before Winter slapped William across the face. It should have broken his heart to cause this kind of pain and disappointment to his daughter but it didn't. He wished it had and had he then there may still have been a chance to redeem himself to the Light.

"If that's it, you should go,? William said.

A single, solitary tear made the slow trek down Winter's cheek as she stared at the man she had called her father. She made up her mind that this time, when she left, there was no coming back. She'd leave his life once and for all and never ever return.

William stirred and felt dizzy. When he opened his eyes, he was floating, a few feet above the ground. A softly glowing cloud carried him through the dark landscape.

The wolf-lord tried to move but his body wouldn't respond. He closed his eyes to concentrate, trying to will Nightfell to appear at his side. Despite a myriad of attempts, the demoness never appeared.

For the moment he felt scared and lost. His sent his lupine senses out to scour the area around him as floated along but he felt nothing. It was like he was in a gigantic void and it was very unsettling.

Up ahead he saw a faint glow and felt a familiar pull, a tingling he hadn't experienced in quite some time. It was the Spring of Light and the closer he got, the more intense the tingling became. By the time he reached the Spring, his entire body felt like it was on fire.

My son, a familiar voice intruded into his mind.

It was Yoshi, the Guardian's first Pack Leader and the one that helped raise him as a child when he was first conscripted into the Pack. William shook his head to rid his thoughts of the haze. He could move now and suddenly found himself standing at the foot of the Sping.

The ghost of his adopted father emerged from the Sping, glowing faintly from the eternity of death. Yoshi's muzzle lifted and his nostrils flared from the stanch of Darkness within William. His enormous paws dug into the soft, moist earth as he studied William.

"Why have you brought me here?" William asked.

I didn't, Yoshi sent. You brought yourself.

Suddenly the Spring's light spiked, forcing William's eyes closed from the brightness. When the light faded to a subtle glow, he opened his eyes again and looked around. The wolf-lord stood there in silence as he looked at the images of his past slowly float around him. It was painful to experience and he tried to flee but something held him in place.

His dark, violet eyes gazed sadly upon the image of Sarah, his first wife, and their newborn daughter, He remembered how excited Winter was to have a little sister but Shayla never saw her first birthday. Both Sarah and Shalya were killed when brigands stormed William's homestead looking for him. He had been out with Winter at the time, teaching her the nuances of the Hunt as her Guardian traits had begun to emerge. When they returned home, they found nothing but rubble and two lifeless bodies hanging from a nearby tree. Winter never remembered what had happened to her mother and sister, or so she told him, except that they had died.

Next came his second wife, Beth. His eyes darkened even more until their violet hue had turned nearly black. He had married her during the height of war with the Darkness. He was the Pack Leader then and as such, he spent most of the first two years of their marriage away. The times he managed to return to her were full of fire and passion, but as the war dragged on, that changed. Beth had grown neurotic and one day when he returned home after the war, he found her dead in their home with her wrists slit and an apology scribed on a parchment.

Other images appeared then faded and when they had made their pass and left him alone, William shuddered. It took him a while to realize there were some very important people missing. The pain was nearly overwhelming but he managed to endure it. Had he seen Cayt or Aurora, or even his brother Roanoke, he surely would have broken down.

It's time to return home, my son, Yoshi sent.

William nodded and slowly stepped toward the Spring. He could feel the warmth of its power and the soothe of its Light. The wolf-lord stepped into the Spring and slowly sank into the glowing water until he disappeared beneath the surface.

Suddenly William woke up in the dark clearing he had collapsed in. His eyes burned with bright violet as he looked around. He was alone and he knew what he had to do.

"So he's really gone?" Roanoke asked his neice.

"It appears so," Winter replied as she gazed into the campfire.

"Why would someone ever embrace the Darkness like that?" he mused.

"You should be one to talk, Ro," Winter fired back.

Despite the long separation she had endured with her father, she still defended him. Winter especially hated it when her uncle talked bad of him too. Roanoke was as about dark as a soul could get. He was a bloodthirsty, power-tripping brigand, though in his defense, he never called upon the Darkness. He didn't exactly bask in the Light either which is what had caused a rift between him and William to begin with.

"Look it, little one," Roanoke said. "I may be wild and rowdy and would sell my brother for a bottle of ale, but have I ever not been here for the Pack?"

He leveled his gaze at his neice and waited. She glared at him over the flickering flames. He was right, more or less, and Winter hated him for it. She hated her father for it too because it was him that pushed Roanoke away until he finally left. Not until William had stepped down as Pack Leader did her uncle return to help her run things.

Winter felt more like a figurehead than a Leader.She knew that Roanoke would have made a better Leader, but she was, after all, the wolf-lord's daughter so she had to be just as great and powerful and wise as he, right' Far from it. Had her uncle not returned, she was sure that the Pack would have been extinct by now.

"I'm sure your father had his reasons to leave, reasons aside from the ones he told us," Roanoke said before taking a pull from his bottle.

For the life of her, Winter still couldn't figure out why her father left when he did. William had the Guardians poised to crush an upstart movement of dark-mages who were trying to take over some far away kingdom. The Pack was direly outnumbered and suddenly he disappeared. All he had left was a stupid note with a stupid excuse for having to go rediscover himself. But somehow they survived and destroyed the mages.

And now a new Darkness descended upon them. One so vast that the Pack had their doubts they would survive. They needed William. Winter needed William and it took every ounce of strength to make contact with him and ask for his help only to be dismissed like a grubby urchin begging for food. It angered her but saddened her more.

"Hey!" Roanoke shouted and flicked a tiny stone at his niece. "You've got me! Doesn't your vagabond uncle make you feel warm and fuzzy?"

Winter tried not to laugh at the funny expression on his face. He wriggled his nose and waggled his eyebrows and finally she snorted and started to laugh. Roanoke drank form his bottle again then gave her a big, cheesy smile before moving to sit beside her.

"Thank you," she whispered as she leaned against her uncle and put her arms around him.

"You're very welcome, little one," Roanoke said then kissed her on top of the head. "I'll be leaving in the morning but I'll be back in three days."

She nodded and nuzzled against him. She never worried for her uncle. He was as crafty as he was rambunctious and the kind of man what would come back from the grave just to haunt someone for fun. Winter would miss him for three days.

Nightfell rocked back and forth on her legs as she knelt beside her master. She gazed worriedly at William's face. His eyes were closed and he wore a peaceful fa"ade but she knew that inside he was struggling for his life.

The wound was much worse than she originally suspected. It took her nearly an hour to stop the bleeding. Nightfell had kept the dagger in hopes of one day returning it to Roanoke in a rather violent way.

She hated that man and she knew the feeling was mutual. It always seemed that when anything bad happened to William it was because of his brother. Whether Roanoke was the direct cause or the incident had its roots with him, he caused William, and Nightfell, a tremendous amount of pain.

William coughed and stirred before returning to his placid state. Nightfell broke from her dark thoughts about his brother to return her attention to him. For the life of her she didn't know what to do. Actually she did, she just didn't know what to do about it. William needed life essence.

She wondered if she could kill then feed him the essence. Nightfell had never tried that before. Usually when she received the essence it was because she was in her sword form and William had just run someone through. She could try. It couldn't make things worse than they really were for him so she set out to a small town they had passed not too long ago in search of a victim.

An hour or so later found Nightfell standing outside of the local tavern. She was staring at the door, hesitant to reach out and open it as if it would suddenly come to life and bite her. She didn't do too well around others when William wasn't nearby. The demoness realized just how much she had come to depend on her master for strength and courage, human traits that her maker had built into her to make her easier to handle.

"Are you lost?" an angelic voice came from behind her, pulling Nightfell's attention away from the door.

She turned around and caught her breath at the voice's source. The woman was young-looking, with a smooth, slender face with delicate, attractive features. She was dressed in dark gray that accentuated the fairness of her complexion. Nightfell liked her. Nightfell liked her very much.

"I'm not from around here," Nightfell said, warming to the young woman. "I'm in search of a healer."

"Then what luck you have," the woman said with a smile in her voice. "I'm a healer. Are you ill?"

"Oh no, not me," the demoness replied as she wondered what the woman looked like beneath her heavy robes. "My travelling companion and I were attacked and he is badly wounded. Not too far out of town but I lack the resources to transport him."

"I see," the woman said. "I'm Gemini, by the way. Come. Let's go to my house so I can pick up my equipment and go tend to your companion."

"You're too kind,? Nightfell said.

She licked her lips from behind the woman as they walked through the small town. She couldn't wait to help her master.