Firestone Hot Springs η μάγισσα

He had lost everything. It had been ripped from his grasps, burned in front of his sorry eyes. Somewhere he had children, somewhere his mother and father were rebuilding, somewhere his brothers lived in hiding. He was welcome to none of it now. He had allowed his temper to take over for a time, contained in the bubble of Siena's now empty lands.

But now, he was to move on. Moving forward, leaving the past where it belonged; forgotten and shattered, he could still take the life he deserved, he could have the glory of saying he had done it on his own.

He passed through a maze of hot springs, the steam a comfort but a wall as well, blocking out the scent of another until they were in his sights. A woman lounging, he forces himself to ease tensed muscles. Recovering from a long winter? He greets her with a question, tone friendly and betraying no further intentions. He does not wish for this to be long, only to pass through and search for lands that feel a bit more familiar.