Deepwood Weald I go my own way

For all the damage that the Nightwalkers had caused him, he had enjoyed his stay there. How strange that must be - to favour one's captors! But it was the truth. It had been a simpler time in his life. Injured and alone, making reparations; it seemed as if Revui was always paying back debts to someone. They had tended his wounds, but in a way that made him feel weaker than he was, debased merely for existing. His stay there had been the catalyst for change within Revui - even he could see that, looking back upon those moments of hunger in the pit. He had been forced to endure or perish. And what kept him from giving up - chief above his love of his own family - was his spite. The promise he held within himself (and which he recited to himself in his silence) that he would survive, thrive, and then retaliate.

Thus far he had only completed two of the tree. With her own admission, the last piece would never come to pass.

Vengeance is gone. Dead. She said, looking away. Nothing registered upon Revui's face to betray how he felt. He did not know how he felt, exactly. The man had been at the forefront of his mind for a while, but Castle Rock had dug him out like a cancerous growth. Vengeance had been formidable in life; Revui would seek him in death, should there be a world after, and find his retribution.

All of this flew through his mind so swiftly, it registered only as a blink of the eye and a soft, almost petulant, huff. Who? He intones finally, inquiring as to what fell beast could have brought down someone like that bear of a man.