The Sentinels revenge is in the creator's hands

it was ford; velen grunted softly in relief at the touch of the shadow-barred male. back to donnelaith his mind traveled, his deepwood eyes searching the dead place for any sign of life. no, it was not as deirdre had said, but velen was unsure he had expected it to be. a place of magicks lost, and in its bonehouse garb it looked no less. if fire licked at the boy, it was because he had never seen donnelaith in its prime.
"athair," velen muttered. "that's what she called him." he could not say he had ever called the indomitable skellige the same, for it had not been the same type of bond. but while it was difficult for the seaspawn to conceive a father-child relationship unmarked by the impassive cairn nature, it was warm to think about all the same.
"when we settle, i want to mark this place as ours, too," velen declared in a low voice; his muzzle swung sideways, and he considered ford with a long look.