Dragoncrest Cliffs deity of scars

Svalinn looked towards the redgem wolf as she spoke about Val. An air of pride swelled in his chest, though he made no move as the other wolf inspected him still. She called him lucky to share a name with the brave descendant. I’m very fortunate, he concurred. Eyjolfur wasn’t a name to be trifled with. The fact that Val might have even been named after him made him doubly privileged. Proud to be related to a wolf like him.

Suddenly, the Anubis took in a sharp breath and stood back, looking up at him with her freshly scarred face, as if in the middle of an epiphany.

Raleska.

The sunbearer felt his heart leap up into his throat as he turned his head to look at her, but his perpetually somber expression went on without changing. Still, his insides twisted with hurt. He wished for a day when the mere mention of her name wouldn’t feel like the reopening of some grievous wound.

The sister-leader went on to speak in rhyme and for a moment he thought she was giving him a riddle. His brows knitted together in befuddlement, and he stumbled over her words in his head. Oh, he hesitated. They didn’t know what Val knew. He wondered if it was his place to say. You might want to hear it from Val instead of me. Let him speak his own truth; let him confirm that Svalinn was no deceiver. He’s your brother. I’m just a stranger. It’d be better coming from him.