Dragoncrest Cliffs maybe spit some blood at the camera, just stay alive

To Blixen's call, he pauses, and stands tall. He doesn't believe it at first, or doesn't want to—but he can't even think of what else could be more important than answering this call. Heda is dead. What, how? What happened? There isn't time to.. Come to the cliffs. Some eerie worry is already on him.

His jaw's set tight in a silent grimace already and momentum carries him fast to the cliffs. The route came achingly familiar, and so did the grief roiling deep in his heart already—fresh and well-understood. He closed in over the last vestiges of Antumbra's fading trail, and slowed before his Fleimkepa with worry in his eyes, for her, and for all this.

Beyond where it all ended, he noticed nothing wrong.. no blood, no intruders, no struggle, and that concerned look at Blixen and the others served a truth remarkably well. With the sea stretching vast behind it all, then beyond, he bit back the sickening rage all over again.

Why?