It weighed heavily on him as he remembered meeting the D'vali woman in the forests, she could see something that he could not and it had unnerved him to no end. It crawled up his spine and rustled around in his head. There was much more to come, more loss and perhaps even more to gain.

He had seen the power of the Gods, though his own hands and through the workings in the threads of Fate. They had somehow aligned him to meet with the Gods of these people from the South, these Saints, as they were called. They had recognized him for achievements concerning a religion he was completely uninvolved with--which left him unsettled--but he had also recognized their power. He saw that there was more to the Great Halls of the afterlife than he had ever expected. This was a mystery he was keen to understand better. For now, though, he would be treated as an respected outsider while he gathered his own will and voice with these people to help his people push back the borders of the Grimme and perhaps join these two estranged cultures. He was a stranger here, but a well thought of stranger--even if completely misunderstood. It was in a weird sort of way that Calais' discomfort was Corman's comfort. He could rely on these, his companions, to lead him through the rocky plains to some sort of fulfillment.

Looking up again, Corman patted the mane of T'aasson and scanned the wasteland again. There was a lightness of hope in the skies beyond and the harsh wilderness seemed slightly softer, even beautiful. In the crackling clay, he could race across at a full gallop, swallowing up the distance that spread between him and his uncertain future. For now, though, he was content to plod along at a snails pace, listening to the creaking wagons and footfalls of the infantry. Finding solace in the company of strangers.

Corman glanced at Calais again, Silverhawk leaned in and whispered to him, resting her cheek the side of his head while doing so. They had become so close; master and student. Now both masters with an intimate connection to both their jobs and each other. It would break Corman's heart if anything were to separate those two. Calais spoke loudly to the commanders back, "I see smoke up ahead." He pointed a finger towards the South to a subtle dark line on the horizon that was now growing into a thick column of smoke.

Resting his hand on Silverhawk's bare lower back, Calais turned and looked to Enzo, then to Corman, "Are you ready?"

Corman nodded, he was ready. Giving him a welcome break from his thoughts, he tapped his newly acquired Silver Spurs to T'aasson to pick up the pace.