Blackfeather Woods end of an empire

The chill of winter's deadly grasp had seeped past the coarse hairs of his winter coat, and though there had been a light snow that had fallen almost a five moons ago during his travels to the Teekon Wilds what had lay upon the ground had melted out and returned to the earth. Snow fall reminded him of the still warm ash that had lain over the earth and blackened dogwoods that were partially spared from the lick of the fire that had torn through Flightless Falcons. He had not been there to witness his family ...his mother burn to their deaths yet seeing the aftermath had been hard enough and the eidetic memory he had been born with did not do him any favors. Osiris wished only to forget the sharp tang of burnt wood and smoke as it burned his nose, to forget that with each step he took the ashes and cinders he stepped upon were not just of the destroyed wood and creatures of prey but of the Redleaf-DiSarinno's that had called it home. The ashes of his mother, stolen from him too young. She was not his by blood nor flesh, but by bond. She had nursed him as his surrogate, nurtured and loved him, even giving him the name of her father: a piece of her to have with him always.

Yet a piece was not enough; it would never be enough.

He could not have done anything, it was far too late. The dark magic he'd believed in as a child had never been real and he tried not to linger upon the “what if's” for the sake of his own sanity, though he could not forget regardless of what he'd tried to make the horror and grief vanish it remained, ever present like a sickness in his mind. Not even opium he'd taken to indulging in could bring with it a nightmare free slumber. The images were still there and the pain he felt was not one that the opium could relieve. Osiris moved forward because he had no other choice, despite that he remained haunted, though in truth he knew he hadn't truly let it go. 

Letting go was easier said than done.

It was an idea of grandeur that had lured him to the Teekon: a commitment to starting over, to giving himself a purpose and something to focus upon in the hopes that it would ease his grief festered as it was. It was this desire that brought him to the doorstep of the grim forest and it was there he waited, eyes of iced champagne observing and memorizing.