With a slight jerking motion, the coach drew to a still. Eiren awoke at once, his cheek peeling from the glass where it was pressed. He sat for a moment, blinking and scratching at his eyes. Damn, it's cold, he thought miserably. The change in temperature worried him; though he knew this area was keener to progress to its fall season than Perrinton, he was still surprised by how quickly summer seemed to have departed.

The carriage door swung open, and the porter stepped down, hefting Eiren's suitcase after him. He set it on the ground and turned to hold out a stout hand. Reluctantly taking the extended hand and pulling himself off the seat, Eiren winced as the air hit him. Before he could so much as ask the porter where he was to go, or who was going to be greeting him, the man was back in the coach, swinging the door shut without so much as a word.

"Wait!" he shouted, but in a matter of seconds, the coach was out of sight, and Eiren stood solitary in the heavy fog. "May your horses tire and cripple," he spat after the carriage, and he turned around to scowl at the scenery before him.

Half-obscured by fog and mist, the gate marking the edge of the Kelfordshire property was an impressive structure, guarded on both sides by two statues of rather formidable dogs. He leaned hesitantly forward and squinted. They were remarkably ugly beasts, greyhounds it seemed, with open, snarling mouths. Each statue was well over six feet high, a front leg raised in perfect symmetry on either side of the gate. Eiren swallowed nervously and hoped the source for their ominous expressions was purely imaginative. Surrounding the estate - and blocking much of it from view - were massive hedges, taller even, than the dogs, and running around what seemed like the entirety of the grounds. They were surprisingly well-groomed, despite their size. Considering momentarily a shred of pity for the individual who must surely be tasked with maintaining the hedges, he almost immediately threw aside such a notion; All who worked for the Lord Van Wyk and his miserable institution deserved their fates, from the lowly gardeners to Van Wyk himself.

Supposing he should at least attempt to continue beyond these forbearing dogs and find a way inside, Eiren stepped forward, eyeing the statues as he did so. The gate was much colder than he was expecting, and he wondered how long the surrounding area had been exposed to the change in season. Did autumn creep in faster here than in Perrinton? He pushed the gate inward, but it resisted. A quick look told him that it was locked, and he swore aloud. His voice was quickly muffled by the fog, and he felt strangely alone, as though he was the only person who had ever walked these grounds.

"What kind of bastard sends immediate word to have me fetched, only to bar me from entering?" he complained, angrily ruffling his hair. If I wait out here much longer, even this will frost over, he thought somewhat dismally, and he hunched his shoulders against the cold. He tried to peer through the gate, but it was not only the oppressive garden that hid the estate from view. Ivy, in a startling red colour, slithered up what parts of the castle were visible, and small, leafless trees stuck their bent and withered arms towards the gate. Eiren huffed and buried his mouth into his coat. He wondered vaguely if the vegetation was a sign of things to come, but boredom and discomfort soon made him forget about trees and ivy and hedges.

"Hello!" he shouted. His hands were jammed deep into his pockets - not even magnifying his voice was worth risking his fingers to the frost - but he hoped desperation added a higher tone to his voice. He repeated his call three more times, but the only thing that replied was a trio of birds. They shrieked in annoyance and flew past the hedges and the statues, flying to his left into the trees.

Having completely forgotten the presence of the forest that dominated roughly half of the Kelfordshire estate, Eiren moaned aloud when the birds drew his attention to the tall, blackened trees. If the cold doesn't kill me, something in there surely will! He pressed himself against the gate and hoped that the snarling hounds beside him would scare off anything that could come out of the trees.

After what seemed like hours, Eiren started at the sound of a heavy crash. He stood at once, not sure if he should be fearful or grateful, and pressed himself against the gate with strained ears -surely, those were footsteps. At last! he crowed to himself, eager to be anywhere but outside. A soft voice, pleading in a sort of defeated tone, accompanied the steps, and Eiren frowned at once.

"I was only joking, you miserable old man," came another, but before he could discern the speakers, they were at the gate and twisting a key into the lock. He reached for his suitcase, prepared to deal with formalities - and complaints - as soon as he was inside the castle.

The gate rattled and swung open, and standing before him was a rather small man, in the long grey robe of some sort of priest. Next to him was none other than Caelony Van Wyk. She was barefoot and wearing men's attire, as though she had been in a field, or herding some breed of animal. Her hair was loosely tied back, but her heavy black locks had fallen forward across her face; the effect was rather attractive, but Eiren could not hide his repulsed shudder in time. This was indeed a terrible surprise! He knew, of course, that Caelony was here, but he had not expected her to escort him up to the castle.

Upon seeing his shaking frame, the priest uttered several apologies and expressions of concern, but Caelony cut him off.

"Do shut up, Bele," she said smilingly, and she held out a surprisingly clean hand to Eiren. "Welcome back, my love!" Eiren took the hand slowly and stared at it. His instincts were waging war with etiquette and expectation; it took all of his energies to bring the hand to his lips and place the lightest of kisses upon it.

"Hello, darling," he replied hollowly, and he stood straight to glare into his betrothed's eyes. She was seven years older than he, but she looked the same as she had when he was a child. He wondered emptily if she wasn't also a witch, and he forced his mouth upwards into a smile. "How have you been all these years?" She pulled her hand back and laughed, a sound that made Eiren flinch.

"Bored, to be honest. Bele here is atrocious conversation, and since you left, I've no one to share any fun with!" The priest flushed and stuttered.

"Let us be on our way," he said hastily, reaching for Eiren's suitcase and smiling up at him. The smile did not reach his eyes, but Eiren suspected that was impossible - the priest's face was a grey, worn-looking swath of skin, and his eyes especially seemed to have been permanently cast down in a look of extreme pity. Whether this was a result of his profession, or from an extended residence on the estate, Eiren was unsure, but as Caelony had retained her apparent youth, he supposed the priest was an exaggerated figure, set as an example of what life in the church for decades could cause. He did not much remember this priest, and the thought concerned him. Yet, for however long this watery-eyed mouse of a man clung to the estate, Eiren decided he ultimately did not care. His nose had begun to grow numb, and he was sure he would worry about all of the grey inhabitants of this grey land after he had a warm meal and a better set of clothes on.

With the priest tottering forward, Caelony walked back on Eiren's left, her arm looped through his. She threw frequent, bright smiles at him, but all he could consider was how unaffected by the cold she appeared to be. A red nose on him, he felt, gave away a sign of weakness and vulnerability, but she wore her red cheeks and bright nose as though they represented some sort of life that he had previously believed unachievable at Kelfordshire. The only thing he could positively say did not reflect her outward appearance of joy and pleasure was her gaze. Her eyes were hard and cold, and their pale brown colour seemed to push away any sort of light. Of course, Eiren could not prove this, or admit it to anybody who did not remember her from so long ago, but the thought stuck to him and made her smiles all the more reprehensible to him.

"Eiren, why do you look so seriously at everything?" She pressed his arm and with her free hand, pointed to the open grounds before them. "Do such fertile grasses and delicate flowers not please you anymore?" He sniffed and raised his chin.

"One does not have to impose their opinion of everything he sees, Caelony. It does not imply that I no longer feel towards them as I once did." She laughed, a note shy of a cackle, and looked into his face.

"Where did all this high talk come from?" she asked. He blushed and turned his head away.

"What use is there in education if one cannot express what they've learned?"

"Oh, you're just as bad as Bele now," she groaned, and she pushed away from him in jest. "Where did all those elegant words of love go, Eiren Adair?" She spun around and flung her arms out, clipping the suitcase and sending the priest staggering for a moment. She ignored him and threw Eiren another beautiful smile. "Where is the boy who so ardently professed his devotion to me? Now, you are a textbook! A print of proper speech and language!" She pouted for a moment and continued her walk next to the priest, conscious of the growing discomfort in Eiren.

"Oh, Father, I beg of thee, release my soul of such heartbreak! My beloved loves me no longer!" The priest shook himself free of Caelony and frowned.

"We should be hurrying out of this cold, my dear, not playing theatrics where one can catch ill."

"Bah!" She looked up at Eiren, taking a step up to the front doors, and curtsied. "Forgive me, my dearest, if my theatrics insult you as much as they do this old stick." Eiren inclined his head and stood beside her as the priest fumbled with the heavy doors.

"Boredom never did suit you," he replied, and she took his arm again, nodding as she did so.

"Quite right, Eiren." She lowered her voice and brought her mouth to his ear, ignoring his slight movement of displeasure. "I thought the same of you, once, but it appears your time abroad has taken more than years from you." He turned to look at her, but she stared ahead and smiled demurely.

"Come, come, Mr. Adair. Apologies again for the wait, but we are home now, and you shan't want for warmth inside," the priest prattled, and he pushed the heavy doors inward and gestured to the two. Forced to put aside Caelony's strange words, and all too ready to be out of the cold, Eiren stepped inside and followed the priest into Kelfordshire Castle for the first time in ten years.