Now, let's give these burning fools a place to dwell

Navigating the Wraith's Woods was always a challenge, but thankfully Stolas was slowly growing accustomed to it. Still, the aid of Widow's companions was a welcome assistance, and soon the dire brute arrived at the heart of the sinister forest. An ancient wisteria tree occupied the massive clearing at the center of the woods, and positioned beneath it was the Queen of Hell herself. Stolas' gray eyes lingered on Widow for a time, still regarding her with the same old pain her absence had scarred his heart with, but also with new memories they had made together here in these very woods. This would be his next step in life. Hellborn would be the next chapter in his story.

Already two other wolves had gathered for the founding of the new pack—a young woman that looked strikingly similar to Widow, save for a darker coat, and a young man cuddling up to her who wore the traditional colors and markings of a Fatalis wolf. That piqued Stolas' curiosity. The Fatalises were a strongly family-oriented collective. To see one of their own away from the Armada was a rarity. Keeping to himself, Stolas moved to sit close to the wisteria tree, and by extension Widow, dipping his head in reverence to his queen. Haunches dropping to the leaf-littered grass, Stolas settled in, sitting proud and proper to the right hand of the queen, a stoic and somewhat dour expression on his face while he waited for the meeting to begin in proper.

"Stolas"