Virtues are not conditional

Ember didn't know how long she had been sitting on those steps waiting for her sire to return, but when he finally reappeared through the castle gates, it was well into twilight and moving into evening proper. The crickets in the garden had long since begun chirping their nocturnal tunes and stars began to blot the darkening heavens overhead. So it wasn't that much of a surprise when her distracted father didn't notice her darker form sitting there waiting for him right away. He looked distracted, like something was eating away at him, and though he was donned in full battle regalia, there wasn't a scratch or blood spatter on him. Wherever he had gone to, it hadn't been to fight, despite his attire. He approached the terrace, began to ascend the stairs—and then looked up at her. The surprise on his face betrayed how lost in thought he had been.

Ember cocked her head as she met her father's fire-toned gaze with her own cool eyes, scrutinizing his features to glimpse any details she could. "Is something going on?" she asked him, brazen and point blank. "I saw all those wolves down on the beach. I saw you grab Mercury and Ezra and rush out with your sword. What's going on, Dad?" Ember had risen to her paws and moved to position herself slightly in front of her sire, cutting off his direct path back into the castle. She wasn't going to relent on this. Something was happening—something not good—and she wanted to know what.

"Ember Carpathius"