Make ready to slaughter his sons for the guilt of their fathers;

[Kreios]

kreios don't you tame your demons, but always keep them on a leash I woke up this morning in a cold sweat, dreaming of the Desert. It was not an unusual dream, but it was one that has been occurring with alarming frequency. Today, I tell myself, today I will go back. And so I do, but it takes time. The sun is high and hot on my pale back by the time I reach the wall. This is new, I think. This had certainly not been here the last time I had visited; perhaps the rumors of war are true after all, and the Desert has begun to erect fortifications. It is likely the work of Yael, I assume. I make my way down the length of the wall until I find an archway, and judging from the recently disturbed sand, I am not the only one to come this way. The prints I leave are equal in size to te gargantuan hooves that I pass, though my feet leave four-toed paw prints rather than crescent moons. One through the gateway, I can see my predecessor all too clearly. I have known him since before I was born, but I have lived nearly half my life now without his presence beside me. The last I heard he had gone North, ready to serve our grandfather’s kingdom. Has he been there this whole time, I wonder? Why had he not come with Yael had summoned us? These questions – and a thousand more – swarm like flies around my head, but as I draw up next to him and lower my head for a drink, all I say is: “It’s been a long time, brother.”