Why don't you stay a while?

Artorias stood atop the castle gatehouse, peering out into the empty abyss of night. Darkness had fully consumed the land. The sun no longer rose on the horizon, and the only light the world saw came from the eerie blue moonlight and the new auroras that streaked the sky like a painter's brush. His amber eyes and nose no longer streamed with viscous glowing fluid and the voices in his head had receded, now little more than the occasional whisper heard in the back of his mind. His paranoia and nyctophobia had also faded, and for the most part, the Aegis was back to the way he was, if not a little worse for wear from the stress. He just wished the same could be said for his pack...

Behind him, tucked away in the sanctuary of the Carpathian castle, his wolves were struggling and dying. Bowen had contracted the same illness Haiku had. Laeta was hovering on the verge of life and death. And while some wolves like Eska and Ulric had begun to recover as well, many still remained afflicted. Gwyn and Syanna were running themselves ragged trying to treat and care for everyone, but just tending to their own wolves had proven a challenge. Artorias glanced at the mechanism that would drop the wrought iron gates, closing off the Hallows to the world. He had gone back and forth on this decision for days, caught between keeping to the ideals of the Hallows and committing to the preservation of his wolves. If he closed the gates, they could focus their resources on keeping their own alive. But if he did, he'd be shutting down the one safe harbor the wolves of Ardent could turn to if they needed help.

Forcing down his conflicting emotions, Artorias strode over to the metal lever and placed a paw upon it, ready to drop the gate. Yet the young alpha hesitated. He thought about Briar. He thought about the wolves of Fenmyre. He thought of all the others out in the world. What if they came seeking aid or asylum and found the gates closed? The Hallows had been meant to be a beacon of light in the dark, a fire to illuminate the shadows of the world. By doing this, Artorias would be snuffing out that flame of hope and benevolence. But what cost would keeping the gates open have for his wolves, his family?

Caught between his conflicting heart and mind, the call for all Carpathian wolves came from within the castle. Black ears flicked atop his head as the familiar voice sent a chill through his heart. Artorias turned shocked eyes up to the castle. He knew that voice... But that was impossible! Artorias dropped his paw from the lever and descended from the walls, rushing through the gardens and down corridors until he arrived in the great hall. The sight that greeted him froze him where he stood. Tamsyn was seated before the fire in the grand hearth, and Rudyard was there as well, both of them pressed up to an ash gray and black fae. The single gold eye he knew better than any other looked between them, and though it was dripping a vivid gold fluid, there was no denying what he saw, what he heard.

Mom...

Artorias' heart missed a beat, the shock keeping the young brute paralyzed in place. His reaction was starkly different to Rudyard's. His tail didn't wag, his eyes were wide as saucers, and he looked like he'd just been pulled out of a dream. Artorias lifted a paw to the scars on his right shoulder on reflex. The last time he'd seen his mother, she'd been crazed, violent, so lost in her bloodthirsty haze that she'd attacked him, just before she... Memories of seeing her broken, mangled, bloody body as he carved his way through those massive dire wolves to get to her flashed before his eyes, each one making his heart hurt a little more. The pain he'd endured from her loss had left permanent scars on his heart and his body, scars that began to ache once more from seeing her here again in the flesh.

After several long moments, Artorias was finally able to move his paws, approaching slowly, cautiously. He stared at Resin unblinking, fearing that if he did, this happy dream might disappear before his very eyes. He still wasn't wholly sure he wasn't hallucinating the entire thing. Maybe his brain was still sick. When he came within touching distance, Artorias stopped and looked over his mother's familiar countenance. Her eye, her scars, her mask... Everything was distinctly Resin. "Is this real...?" he asked, voice low and quivering with the emotions he was trying to keep reined in. "How...?" Lifting a paw, he reached forward towards his mother, half expecting to pass right through her if he touched her. Instead, he felt the coarseness of her fur, the solidity of her body—although it wasn't quite right and she didn't give off the warmth one expected from a body. Artorias' mouth hung agape while faintly glowing tears began to well in the corners of his eyes. "Mom... it really is you, isn't it?"

"Artorias Carpathius"