Moonsong Glacier torn butterfly wings

For once, the Taggerung ceased his chattering musical notes. The bard listened closely. Each ghost described by the devil was something more akin to a memory than a soul without bodily restraints. The interest did not leave his glimmering eyes. The smile did not slip from his snout.

Dreadful things, these ghosts, the bard admitted with a chuckle after the dark figure had made his comments. But tell me this, son of Kojall, what power do these ghosts have in the world of the living?

It had been clear before that moment that the dark wolf who sought spirits in the snow was no descendant of Ipnos. His sharpness had made the Taggerung consider Enokhe for only a moment before seeing that dangerous flash within his eye.

What power have they over you? Survivor of turmoil, the bard gestured with a nod to the dark wolf’s face.