Where Do Your Demons Hide?

Never in his wildest dreams would the Grand Duke ever thought himself to be participating in a war. Those were things that other packs in distant lands participated in. Not Seracia. Seracia was peaceful but now Pontifex was marching off to Valhalla to assist them in the war. Loccian resented him for it, he knew that much. And Pacifica...well she was scared for him. And if he was being honest with himself, he was rather scared himself. He'd never fought in a war...not one of this magnitude anyway. There was a very real possibility that he wouldn't be coming home at the end of this. Or his fellow companions. It was a morbid realization, but one he had already come to terms with. He was doing this to protect his family and to serve his King as he pledged that first day when Gerhardt had accepted him into Seracia.


Grey and ebony paws would pull the Seracian man after their unofficial leader Themisto, golden gems flickering warily across the new terrain. He vaguely remembered traveling to this pack for Maverick and Ephiphron's marriage, but that had been a good while back and the trip had been brief. The scent of Valhalla was rather familiar, but the terrain not so much. A group of wolves up ahead caught the man's attention as the trip approached a russet man whose lower jaw was devoid of flesh. Was this the Synrix Maverick had spoken about? Themisto would address the man, introducing the trio and stating their purpose for having arrived in Valhalla. Pontifex would stand quietly to the right of Themisto, gaze steady on the man Syrinx, awaiting his words.


Talk like this