Shadewood haagax ⚘

It had come. For once, he felt her throat as it rasped up his name in a summon. Every letter that pressed forth, he could hear the change of air as it shifted to the next. Almost impossibly the Phantom could imagine afterwards, a smile on her lips as the last of his calling left her pale lips. But he knew better. He knew there was no smile in this situation. How he had treated her when they had last seen one another- there was nothing more that could salvage the situation.

What mattered now...
who knew? He had him a girl who would ride or die, who would follow him to the ends of madness and back- because ultimately, that’s what he had become. A draconian, set in his mind that it was either life, or death. Power, or weak. He was no longer harboring whelps and powerless children who could not hold their own. He would bring Shadewood to majesty, to herald a legacy that none other could stand the might of. 

And with resolution in his cold stare, narrowed and forthcoming, he strode tall and telling to the call of Kukutux.
It wasn’t long before he spied those verdants of hers-
And for once, he was not pained.

Winter may have left the lands of Shadewood, perhaps the entirety of Teekon itself; yet Cry was Winter. Whatever breezes of warmth from spring came to address him, they were too warm for the timber mix. Distaste filled him. 
He wanted to return to the shade of the woods...but this needed to be settled first.

So often he had spoken first, dropping an entire list of his worries, his desires, his intentions and fears. But today, he knew what this could be. 

“If you choose to do this, you will be labeled a ‘Traditore’ should you share any information of the Keep or it’s inhabitants. You will be hunted down,” he began finish of the contract. “And killed.”

There was no remorse. No pain could settle in him as he spoke apathetic to the woman he secretly coveted. But he need not her-
His Gwen awaited him. 

His breath was cold, his heart throwing arctic water through every vein in him. But there was no fear.
No worry.
This was her choice- and should she choose to make it, her own blood and those she condemned with her tongue, those who were damned to listen to her words, would be upon her head. 

“And I will know once you do.” It was not just a threat, but a promise, a guarantee stocked and loaded in the glacials residing icily on his face.

He would not miss her.
He would not let himself miss her.