Altar of Twilight making meat enough to glut the crows

She halts before the convergence spot, lifting cold eyes to survey the land she has been led to. It lingers far too close to the haunted wood where Malice once coerced the false king into her grips, and then south, to where the remains of a life once lived lies. Winter's bane has settled comfortably into her bones as the return of the bloodhound moves into the territory. She yearns for the promise of war, and the bittersweet taste of the destruction it brings; the food of her soul and the sustenance of her character. It is a hunger that consumes the fabric of her thoughts, devouring every morsel of calamity within her and spitting out annihilation in its path. The wraith has gone too long, starved of the terror and rage her presence had once commanded. Now, she hunts for death, but not before the affirmation of safety. Moonspear was a wildcard in her books, a relationship coexisted between them that was unknown to many yet a tricky little thing in the eyes of those who knew their history. It was where her sister had come for shelter before her assassination, back when the Brotherhood was ruled by Blackfeather's matriarch and conqueror. Would they accept a former frenemy into their midst? To lie in the same realm as their children, and to watch in the dark as they slept? Nemesis would not. It was only a question if Charon and his kin were eager enough for the death of Blackfeather Woods to allow its former queen to walk among them. Former. If she was indeed to earn a place with them, her attachment from the dark woods was imperative to convey. Her loyalty existed solely to Bane, who regardless, existed far beyond the Teekon's impact. Standing forth, bold and daring, she awaits the Cerberus's judgement.