Shadewood the good ones always die

Correcting the path? ....

Or destroying the one it was meant to embark upon...?

Raziel watched his daughter and her forefround as she unfolded it before herself with her judgement. A looming shadow both above and below, between and behind the looming clouds of this smaller snowstorm, a promise of so much more to come should the shadow envelope and induce it to be such. He felt himself growing further from his own destiny as of late, and even moreso as he crossed into the charters of life where he was staining his life with the obscene bruises he inflicted on his path. Forsaking his wife for the chance to uproot power in it's most seductive and writhing of ways, only to fall ahead of himself. He was too ambitious, he heard his former concious chide in it's shackles. Too ambitious and looked too far into the future to accurately pinpoint anything useful for now. So farsighted...

that he couldn't notice the gem that stood before him, already showing promise in her most perfect flaws of numb child life. She had a sibling, one of whom Gwendolyn either kept hidden from him, or had chosen a different spot to keep it. He knew of it to be a son, one with remarkably mirrored image to him. But no...he hadn't met the thing yet. 

Here one stood...and as silent as the flight of a hunting hawk, he watched her further her talent as his prodigy...icelandic glacials stayed frigid on the girl. Cry waited and watched, his patience rolling over in a roll of sub temperate waves. She would feel his past...she could be the chosen one. The next to piece together who he was. She had his blood in her veins...she was also the same age he was when Slade had taken him from his mother. 

A face that could so easily be forgotten...

Until you wanted to remember them, again.