Blackfeather Woods He came and stood below my window in the moonlight.

He slid quietly into the Glen, gently nosing his niece. The sun was slowly slipping under the horizon, darkening the Woods. It was high time for a meeting.

@Damien had returned, and yet the position of Dark Master still remained with @Nemesis. He had not been promoted to fill the void. @Potema had been demoted. The tension between the two litters were growing steadily as the pups survived through the cold days. @Cicero was acting strange.

When she had been awoken, he stepped into the small clearing of the Glen, tipping his head back to summon them, the members of the first Dark Council. They needed to speak about their conflicts, and clearly.

Damien had not seemed so eager to reclaim his throne since his return, and Sheogorath wondered what had spurred such a change into happening. When he was summoned, Sheogorath came. He had expected others to be there by now, but found his uncle alone, it seemed, at the glen — Damien and Nemesis were nowhere to be seen. He could not help but wonder what they had been summoned for, and looked at Miraak with a lifted eyebrow, raised in silent question, while he held his mouth and waited for the others or, if they would not make haste, for what his uncle would have to say.