He stirs from his sleep. Slowly at first, and with a scowl settling on his face. His eyes open despite his best effort, and it is only then that he notices the bitter wind. It is sharp, unyielding. It bites against his navy pelt and for a moment, he considers shifting into his phoenix form for no other reason than his flames. Instead, he decides to walk.

He walks aimlessly, moving only to keep the cold from settling beneath his skin. He pays little mind to where his feet are going. He has nothing to fear from the unknown.

As if waking from a dream he stops suddenly, and only then does he realize where he has wound up. The Ruins. An often talked about, but little visited corner of the realm. It is unnaturally quiet here but still, he does not fear this place. He turns his gaze across the land and notices something...something he cannot explain. For a moment, he wonders if he is dreaming. With a sharp twist of his neck he bites himself on the shoulder in an attempt to wake himself. It does not work.

Before him stand two specters. He has seen many ghosts, but these are more tangible than any he has ever seen. A frown falls over his face as he takes in their appearance. Clearly, they did not cross the veil peaceful and whole. As he stares, he feels that song rising in his throat and with a whirl he changes forms, becoming the great fiery bird that is his other half.

His fire lights the area around them but it does not scare the ghosts away. These are clearly not the type of ghosts to hide in shadows or corners. They speak to that song in his heart, and he cannot help but let it spill out. It rings through the silence and it is a terribly sad thing but beautiful in its melancholy. With a flap of his wings he approaches the ghost on the right. "Let me try to help you... he says softly. As he speaks he lays his beautiful head as close as he can to the spirit. He does not feel the body but he does feel the cold. He does not know if this will work, but he feels deep in his soul that he must try. And so he does try, and as he tries he cries. His pearly tears are quickly lost against the foggy white of the specter but still, he pours them out. Though he himself does not fear death, he feels nothing but sorrow for these poor souls who left the world so horribly.