Now is the time, Now is the hour

News of a pack falling in the western parts of Boreas had swept across the land. A major event such as a pack's dissolving seldom ever went unreported, and even at the far northeastern reaches of the continent the rumors had reached Elysium. Alastor hadn't attended the last pack challenge with everything that had been going on in his home life, but now that things were settled back down, the prospect of getting to witness a major political shift that could affect Elysium directly was far too intriguing to pass up. He and Manea had agreed to go see the spectacle out, if for no other reason than to learn who they might be dealing with in the near future. Little Scylla had volunteered to go along with them, as had Kichi, and Alastor was more than happy to turn the scouting trip into a group outing.

The Elysian wolves set out early in the day to head across the continent for Ethyria's old lands, making quick time of the trip, chatting and bantering all the way. Alastor was in a jovial mood. Who wouldn't be when you get to witness such a rare sight and enjoy a good battle in the process? At least he hoped there would be a fight. An uncontested pack claim was such a dull affair... Smiling his wide, toothy grin, the group reached the oasis just as the initial call from a challenger rang out—and the voice made the demon wolf's heart miss a beat. His blood turned to ice in his veins, his paws frozen mid-step while dark eyes widened and narrowed simultaneously. That voice... it couldn't be... Alastor's eyes snapped over to Kichi as if wordlessly asking if he had heard the same thing. "It's not possible..." the dire brute muttered and quickened his pace, lumbering up through the lush grass amongst the arid desert to crest a hill, bringing the oasis into view.

It was there that he saw her. Like a glistening pallid ghost from his past, she stood as she faced off against an unknown opponent. The fight had just begun, both contenders fighting tooth and nail. Alastor's eyes widened in shock, his jaw falling slack. Lurid. She was alive! His mind reeled, struggling to comprehend what he was looking at. Alastor might have thought he were hallucinating had he not seen the familiar red wolf standing off on Lurid's side of the field, also spectating the fight. Another wraith from his past. For a while Alastor stood frozen, uncertain of what to do. Part of him wanted to run down there and leap into the fray, old urges of violence and anger rising in his core. Another part of him wanted to lead his family away, to protect Manea and his wolves. Instead he simply stood there, stock still and stiff like he was struck paralyzed. All he could do was watch the fight play out while his head spun. This shouldn't have been possible. Yet there she was...

"Alastor Mendacium"