Blackfeather Woods hang your head upon my throne

It is a little known fact that he adores his mother. She is perfection personified; the image he identifies as the worthy, the deserving faction of the dark woods that he decides fit to inherit the legacy of the night mother. She is everything to him, the one above all else, and he worships the ground she walks on. He leans into her as she calls to him, nipping at the underside of her muzzle in an uncharacteristic display of affection. "Mother." He greets, before pulling away to look back at his offering., indicating to its presence upon the grounds of his grandmother's grave. "Perhaps the gods will favour me," The remark comes with a cruel amusement, referring to a rivalry that his mother is presently unaware of. Kahlil and Neo, and the disrepect they bring. It is only a matter of time before they are rectified, and their trial is brought upon them; their gods will not take favour over them and their falseness than the blood of Melonii. At least, that is what he chooses to believe.