Regis was crazy. He had to be, considering he'd been following a cat for the better part of an hour. He could see the little black creature now, perched on a log but a few strides away. It stared at him, tail swishing as if it were telling him to hurry up.

Nido's pearly, white tits but he was going mad. And yet he'd hauled one foot after the other, staring at the ground to watch his footing as he chased the damned cat through the forest. Better than sitting on his arse feeling sorry for himself, he reckoned. Better than staying and potentially getting caught by Libro, or his brother, or whatever else lurked in this abominable, frozen hellscape.

A soft bell chimed in the distance. He looked up, saw the cat scrambling up a hilltop, staring at him with clear annoyance. "You've got to be farking kidding me," he muttered in Northern. "I'm not climbing up that damned thing after you made me follow you through the farking woods."

The cat gave him a dismissive flick of its tail and sauntered off.

Damn it, but Regis was going mad. Arguing with an animal that was more than likely trying to escape then take him on some ridiculous revelation. And yet he grunted and groaned as he plodded up the hillside, surprised to see the cat waiting for him as he toddled to the top.

"What," he muttered, rubbing at a sore spot in his back. "Got something for me to..." His words burbled to a stop as he looked up. A graveyard lay stretched out before him, large and vast and yet eerily well maintained. It rippled with row upon row of polished stone, words and runes etched into their smooth, dark faces. Some gave names to the dead, others offered guidance for the living. Most said nothing, their words long since faded by time.

He stared at the mammoth monument for the dead in stunned silence. A year ago he'd have swam through the deceased without so much as batting an eye. Now, it made him pause. Perhaps, his perceptions had simply changed. Perhaps, he was simply growing soft. More than likely it was a little bit of both. Only time would tell.

The bell around the cat's neck gave another luring jingle as it bounded off into the graveyard, leaving Regis to his lonesome.

"Shit," he hissed, scrambling after the damned thing. No way in the seven hells he'd be caught alone in a place like this. Even if it was just a damned cat. Fear itched into the back of his mind as his thoughts raced over the possibilities, shadows rising like specters amidst the stones.

The cat led him down a winding track amidst the grave stones, well worn boots tramping over clear paths of shoveled snow. There were places where wild grass had been ripped out, ice scraped off the plaques, stone cairns carefully stacked upright. A flicker of light made him stop as he realized they were from lit candles, set ceremoniously over one particular grave. He read the name and his heart sank.

"Leyla Karth." Regis ran a finger over the etched runes of her name. "The Aulderman's daughter." He remembered her. She was such a tiny thing back then. The complete opposite to her bear of a father. She must have died recently, the candles around her headstone were still fresh. A bouquet of snow lilies lay beside it, bound together with linen and twine.

He stroked one of the cream colored petals, a stark contrast to his leathery hands. His time in the south had tanned him beyond all recognition. His people would surely never recognize him. Gone was the pale faced man with a mane of hair spun out of gold. Now there was only a blackened husk, with a mantle made of ash.

Something rubbed against his leg and he nearly shot out of his skin before realizing it was the cat. The damned thing coiled around his foot like a jealous lover, perched beside him and stared up, yellow eyes gleaming.

"Did you want me to see this?" Regis asked, pointing at the gravestone.

The cat gave no indication whether it did or didn't. It sat there, tail flicking ever so gently.

"Not as if you'd tell me otherwise. Would be really strange if you suddenly decided to talk." He paused, staring intently at the creature. "Right?"

The cat's ears perked up. With a sudden burst of speed it took off, bounding into the mists.

A cold stab of panic struck Regis as he lurched to his feet. "Wait! Get back here," he called, more afraid of what the damned thing was running from then where it had gone too. He squinted in the half dark after it, feet shuffling over the pave stones as he scanned the horizon. It was hard to tell where he was even supposed to look. Everything had a similar blandness to it, each stone looking the same as the last. He took a step, tumbled as his foot sank a pothole, nearly bowling him over. He caught hold of a grave, fingers digging as he righted himself with a painful lurch.

And that's when he found it. While all the other graves stood in similar shape and size, this one called to him. Like a silent beacon in his head. Like he was meant to find it.

Gully's grave. It stood proudly over the other stones, more a mighty menhir of old than a simple wedge of rock. Her name had been carved deeply and filled with polished, white marble, the runic etchings as clear as the day they'd been made. He ran a hand over the perfectly smooth surface, a flood of emotions taking hold of him all at once. Fear, regret, longing, guilt, and that tiny spark of love he still kept buried deep in his heart.

"Oh, my love," he murmured, wondering if today would be the day he could finally let go. The day he would finally cry. "I never thought I would find you here, of all places." He sank to his knees, so weary of a sudden he didn't know if he could ever get back up again. His fingernails dug into the rock as he leaned in close, pressing his forehead to her name.

Damn it all, but he could feel the tears coming. His vision blurred as fat, wet drops plopped onto the earth, leaving stains in his cheeks. Felt like a dam burst inside him as an unstoppable flood came rushing out. He grit his teeth, air shuddering in his chest as he fought to stay in control, but he was weeping now damn it, weeping like a child would for his mother. Like a brother for his own. Like a husband for his dearly, departed wife.

"I've been gone for so long," Regis said, eyes stinging, body doubled over as he wracked with sobs. "But I'm back now. I know I broke every promise I made, but I'm back. Like I said I would." He remembered crawling home to Copperhaven after Erik had reduced it to cinders. He remembered how the air smelled. Ash and char and roasted flesh, and the unmistakable scent of winter.

He'd never found their bodies. Gully, Freya and Bjarni. Searched for days till in the end he'd taken three skulls he thought belonged to his family. Went to the highest peak with the tallest tree and left them so close to the sky they were but a finger's reach from Aurora's divine touch. Then he ran. Ran until he'd left Danic behind. Ran until his legs finally gave out, and he lay before the haunted gates of Byzantia.

But now he was certain. She was here, six feet down in Mother Ertah's arms. She was safe there, her, and little Freya, and brave little Bjarni.

He bunched up his hands as the cold grief in his chest began to thaw. For too long he'd carried the burden of uncertainty. For too long he'd left the past behind instead of settling old scores. He could feel the weight melting off as he came to a stunning, unbreakable conclusion.

It was time to kill his brother and finally take his revenge. At any cost. The aches in his back and the sores in his feet reminded him of this promise as he stood back up. "Gully. Watch over the children for a little bit longer. I'll come home soon."

Regis turned away and froze. A figure stood watching him from the distance, half hidden amongst the stones. It was tall and thinly shaped, a ragged looking creature that strangely made his stomach clench. He reached for his hammer, realizing this was his first contact with a native of Danic. Good or bad, he needed to keep a level head.

"Hello there," he called out, hoping he wasn't signing his own death warrant by starting off friendly. "I can see you over there. I'm not looking for a fight, for what it's worth." He stared down at his armor, devoid of all Vangen symbolism but still the same chains and furs he'd worn in countless campaigns. Probably didn't help that he was dressed for a fight, he reckoned.

The figure said nothing as it peeled away from its hiding place, trudging over with ungainly slowness. It left Regis feeling more than a little unsettled. First the storms, then the skies, and now this. There was a wrongness in Danic he simply could not ignore.

"What's your name, stranger?" A voice like two grinding stones called out. Took Regis a moment to realize it was coming from the figure before him.

"The name's Regis. I assume you're the keeper of this place?"

"Spot on...Regis, was it?" The voice puzzled over his name in its dry, gravely throat. "An odd name. A far away name. It reeks of the south."

"You've a keen nose then. It's Byzantine."

"Lost my sense of smell a long time ago, but I've gained so much more. You, though? You've lost far more I reckon. Oh yes, far, far more.."

A chill spread over Regis. He wasn't liking the stranger's odd familiarity. "I'm afraid you've mistaken me for someone else, friend."

The figure paused for a moment, studying him. "For twenty five years I've watched over Gully's grave, as I have for countless others who once lived in Copperhaven's halls. Many have come to weep for the ones who were lost, but none came for her. Until today. There is only one man I know who would shed tears for the former Jarla of this once proud fiefdom."

A wisp of white cloth flitted out from the shadows, the faint glimmer of iron chasing after. The figure emerged into full view, a stained white cassock draped over well worn mail. Two flinty eyes burned fever bright as a lamp was lit, dark lines from countless years running over, two jagged cheekbones.

Regis sucked in a tight breath. His eyes growing very wide. "It cannot be. I thought you were dead."

Olaf Karth smiled from ear to ear as he hobbled over, a shadow of the man Regis had left behind a quarter century ago.

"I...I have to admit I'm a little shocked. You look," he paused to find the right words. "Thinner."

"Happens when you get old," Olaf laughed. "Can't say the same for you, though. Looks like time kept you mostly intact." He gave Regis a once over. "But with a touch more iron, I reckon."

Regis couldn't help but grin at the bastard. Had to be fate he'd find his old Aulderman after all these years. A little worse for wear, but alive and about the only friend he had at the moment. "I can't tell you how happy I am to see you."

"Yes, yes, happy reunions and all that. "Olaf looked cautiously from side to side as he leaned in close. "There will be plenty of time for well wishes and catching up later, but we've a problem to deal with first."

"Aye?" Regis asked, frowning at the old man's words.

Olaf nodded gravely. "You've just set into motion a prophecy that can never be undone. A prophecy that will doom the entire land of Danic, and I need to get you where you need to be so we can finally put back what's right."

Regis blinked wearily as the cold settled into his bones. "I farking did what now?"