Duskfire Glacier roakshore

the wind battered the ridge. the ice groaned beneath its weight, shifting in slow, imperceptible movements. fenris sat upon the cliffside, unmoving, crimson eyes fixed upon the glacier’s vast and frozen expanse.

this land was faust’s. theirs.

darukaal.

he had yet to call it home, yet to let the word settle in his chest and take root. but he was here. he had followed the trail, and now there was nowhere else to go.

the wind carried a voice. firm. familiar.

brother, fenris said, turning to meet him. he studied faust, the way he carried himself now—stronger, heavier. it brought a smile to fenris' lips.