[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/vDOqGRW.png[/img][/center] Zakhar was a warrior. He was a werewolf forged of the iron of tragedy, death, hatred, and vengeance. In the face of his own demise he scoffed, and of fear, he knew little. Yet, beneath the terrible shadow of the wolf-god, he quaked like a common cur. Fenris’ howl seemed to reverberate into Zakhar’s very bones, and all steel drained from the white-wolf’s veins. Still lying upon the black, frozen lake, his breaths came in rapid and ragged pants. The whites of his eyes ringed his amber iris’, and he felt trapped in the own ivory strands of his thick fur. As Fenris dropped his massive head, his howl completed, he turned his obsidian gaze to where Zakhar lay. The eyes of the wolf-god seemed to have a palpable presence as they alighted upon the werewolf. A new wave of fearful shivers coursed across Zakhar’s body, and at this Fenris lifted the cracked lips of his maw into a wicked smirk. [i][b]Your fear is pleasing, child,[/i][/b] came the booming voice inside of Zakhar’s head. A whimper escaped the werewolf’s lips. With slow and booming steps, Fenris turned to face Zakhar. Every press of the wolf-god’s paws crunched the stone beneath them, sending clouds of dust and granite shards flying into the air. [i][b]Oh, child, I am forever in your debt. Be not afraid, for you are a herald of a new age…[/i][/b] Fenris’ voice had started in a low and thinly veiled note of calm, as if he were a butcher soothing a calf being led to slaughter. But in that last instant, his words ceased abruptly, and the wolf-god spun to face an area just to the right of Zakhar. Sword-like fangs gleamed blue in the strange cave, and somehow even the inky black of Fenris’ eyes seemed to emit a strange and terrible light as they focused. Zakhar, still shaking, slowly turned his head to follow the god’s gaze. What he saw drew his attention from the moment, and his brows knit in confusion. There, floating just inches above the icy lake’s surface was a roaring flame. Puzzled, Zakhar rolled towards the fire, and his eyes squinted at the strange apparition. Within the dancing tongues or orange and yellow, he could make out shapes, organic and obscure, as if they were being viewed through frosted glass. Rising unsteadily to his feet, Zakhar peered harder, trying to focus upon the shapes that eluded distinction. Slowly, the light of the flames seemed to become more transparent, and with it, the shapes. Recognition dawned upon him, and the unmistakable stones of Ardgroom became visible. Within the ring of the stones, figures appeared. Zakhar’s jaw dropped with stunned dismay. [i]How…?[/i] His thought was interrupted by Fenris’ voice, thundering between Zakhar’s ears. [i][b]It will be them![/i][/b] Zakhar flinched and looked over his shoulder to Fenris. The wolf-god stood there, and a broad grin somehow curled his wolfish muzzle. [i][b]They will be the first to witness my return, and the beginning of the end.[/i][/b] [center][img]http://i.imgur.com/vDOqGRW.png[/img][/center] --- Atticus had been listening to the discussion, his hand stroking with contemplative concern upon his beard. His tail swished behind him in anxious arcs as he took in the words of those gathered, and attempted to comprehend the terrible reality that he once again found himself and his team. The world’s most dire affliction was falling into the Bain & Hoyle Company’s collective lap, just as it had scant months ago. [i]Are we to be forever cursed with this burden, until it ultimately destroys us?[/i] With a rough sigh in answer to his own posit, he looked into the growing fire of Jay-Jay’s spell. At first he saw nothing but the dance of flames, and then like dew being wiped free of a window, images suddenly came into sharp focus. He saw a blue cave, a black lake, and the enormous form of a massive wolf staring with obsidian eyes from its banks. Atticus breath caught in his throat, disbelief stayed his tail in midair. The incubus had no time to think upon what looked back through the light of those magical flames, for in that very moment a shining bolt of green lightning erupted from within the stone circle. Thunder followed instantly, and Atticus felt himself flying backwards. Stunned, he could make out only more successive flashes of green, and the booming report of thunder as his flight took him out of the ring of stones. With a rush of air from his lungs, Atticus landed hard upon the cool earth, and skidded across the grass. His wings folded and splayed at odd angles, and Atticus came to rest in a heap of his own red limbs. Pain did not yet register to his mind, as thunderclap after thunderclap continued to buffet him, and the green flashes of lightning grew in frequency. The whole of his senses were overwhelmed by the display. Then, through the burst of green, a silhouette could be seen. At first Atticus could not comprehend what it was. It was so large that the night sky was obscured from view, and the emerald lightning became an aurora around its rough edges. Blinking hard, Atticus stood. Upon his feet he labored to focus upon the haloed shadow, and recognize its nature. For several long moments he stood in this manner, rigid with confusion and frozen with the futility of his discernment. Then, with all the force of the lightning that had flung him, Atticus saw, truly [i]saw[/i]. It was a wolf. The god-wolf.