He had returned to the inn, to their rooms a few nights, but each night, found it empty...no note from her, no message. Nothing to indicate that she had returned. Each time, he grabbed a few pieces of fruit and returned to his sanctuary, making note to return a few days later to see if she had returned from where ever she had needed to go to, as she had last indicated to him.
At his sanctuary, he fasted and meditated, focusing within and thus, reaching out. But the Fates were effective and he found nothing and received nothing. There would be no signs. There would be no message. No indications whatsoever.
This day was like the others and he sat in solitude, deep in mediation. This day, there would be an answer. Somewhere, away from his sanctuary, the charred box was being turned to a heap of ashes. He felt his chest being crushed as if the very life was being squeezed from his lungs...He felt his blood boiling, as if his blood had been set on fire. He felt his heart hurt, as if it was being torn asunder. A pained grimace barely flickered over his features as voices whispered.
It is time now. Her voice...gentle and loving, reaching through the red haze of the impending winter. Ironic, he thought, considering how it felt like his heart was going to explode in a fiery inferno, as that box cracked and popped under the furnace of wyrm's fire.
He felt a tender touch, soft and comforting, cooling against the feverish heat of his skin. Then upon his brow he felt her whisper brushed kiss. Come, Son. It is time to return home and finally rest.
At his sanctuary, he fasted and meditated, focusing within and thus, reaching out. But the Fates were effective and he found nothing and received nothing. There would be no signs. There would be no message. No indications whatsoever.
This day was like the others and he sat in solitude, deep in mediation. This day, there would be an answer. Somewhere, away from his sanctuary, the charred box was being turned to a heap of ashes. He felt his chest being crushed as if the very life was being squeezed from his lungs...He felt his blood boiling, as if his blood had been set on fire. He felt his heart hurt, as if it was being torn asunder. A pained grimace barely flickered over his features as voices whispered.
It is time now. Her voice...gentle and loving, reaching through the red haze of the impending winter. Ironic, he thought, considering how it felt like his heart was going to explode in a fiery inferno, as that box cracked and popped under the furnace of wyrm's fire.
He felt a tender touch, soft and comforting, cooling against the feverish heat of his skin. Then upon his brow he felt her whisper brushed kiss. Come, Son. It is time to return home and finally rest.