The Highlands were home but within them was a piece of her heart. She had spent time gathering rumors and marking down on her map where her destination could be. Death, wastelands, emptiness; they were all things she was looking for. Her pale fingers ran over the map. There were three circles over the Highlands themselves and within those circles were barrows that she could search.

Golden eyes stared at it more as she noted where she had already searched. Green tinted glass goggles were on top of her head, borrowed from her mother’s artifact collection. She paused at the thought and realized just how pissed off Angela was going to be at what her daughter was trying to achieve. She grit her teeth for a moment before pressing onwards. Her heavy fur cloak was like a rock against her shoulders, the fear of what her mother could or would do to her was heavy on her mind.

She took a gander at the barrow ahead of her and pulled the goggles over her eyes. The ground lit up with fascinating colors, some that she had never spotted before. The lands around her were war torn and the other thing that really stuck out was the barrow itself.  She slid down into the barrow and held her breath for a tiny second as she realized just how heavy the air was. 

Using the goggles made finding him all the more easy. Though from the look of him… it was like he had never moved in all those years. She slid the crypt open. “Please, don’t be angry with me Brynn.” Maybe it was because she thought it was unfair. Maybe it was because her mother had told her not to go looking for answers. Maybe it was… just because she could. She took the one thing she knew would wake his soul up and held it close to her.

The rest was up to him on if he wanted to wake up.

The central chamber of the barrow was lined with flat slabs of local stone and roofed with the same, the air had an undisturbed quality, at least until Calanthe entered it. The dust of centuries rose from the floor, obscuring the two lines of footprints which were the only evidence that anything had moved within here since it had been closed over with earth, that and the hole that had been dug into the mound maybe a year or so before. The chamber itself was littered with the debris of a life of action, weapons, a shield, all strangely well preserved, and in the centre a raised dais of roughly worked stone. On the dais lay a figure wrapped in a black shroud, an iron crown lying on its chest.


The moment the crown was removed dim red light sparked from the walls, revealing writing in a long dead script. In a few places sparks leapt from the writing, arcing towards the shrouded figure. A moment later the light died down to a sullen red glow, barely enough to make detail distinguishable. Then as quickly as it had started the light guttered out.


A hiss of indrawn air came from the centre of the barrow, as if someone sought to scream but who's lungs were empty. A frantic scrabbling could also be heard, followed by the movement of heavy, woolen cloth sliding over skin and falling loose onto the stone. The low red glow returned once more, revealing a pale skinned man sat, bent over, upon the dais, the black shroud bunched about his waist. With an almost hesitant, shuddering movement he looked towards the one who'd brought him screaming back into his body.

Poor sweet dear Calanthe had a look of pure fear on her face for a few meager moments. She felt the weight of what she had done come down full force on her. Her mother's words were suddenly very, very loud in the back of her head. Immediately the crown went to her embrace and she held on tightly as she hid beneath the fur that had been so good at keeping her warm. It couldn't however, keep her warm from the terrible coldness that had sought her out. She had gone against her mother's wishes. She could have very well gone against Bryn's wishes. The mortal heart was weak.

Her mouth was dry as she tried to find words. She had never seen him like this before. She had never seen him dead, nor cold, nor hurting. She had only just seen Bryn as his god form. Now that he was mortal and she could see the very fabric of life around him… She was slightly terrified of him. How was that justified? How could she feel this way about a man who had held her so gently? Maybe it was because there was a boundary between life and death that shouldn't have been crossed. Maybe that was what Angela had been trying to prevent.

"Bryn?" It felt her lips like she couldn't say anything else. Like the last breaths she had went to just saying his name. Her golden eyes peered up from the hood. She was terrified.

His first awakening had drawn him unknowingly out of oblivion, he'd woken, not knowing of the centuries that had passed or for the space of a few moments what manner of being he'd returned as. This time however he knew, he remembered, the new cities, the search for his stolen possessions, the ascension to godhood. Then something had come adrift in his mind, something had happened which had led him to lose his godhood which in turn had severed the thread which had bound him to the world of the living. His nature as the God that stood on the boundary between life and death had made it easy for him to be drawn back into the realm of the dead and he had assumed he'd then rest forever. An assumption which had proven wrong far too quickly, he didn't know why this time hurt, maybe his soul wasn't quite as human as it had been before his ascension, so forcing it back into a purely mortal shell was like filling a water skin too full. But even as his mind whirled around what was different, and how long he'd been gone a noise caught his attention.

His name, and a voice that he recalled very well indeed. Breathing deeply he raised his head to look towards where the voice had come from. He raised himself off the dais, bare feet landing on the cold stone. Almost without thinking he drew the shroud about him exactly how he'd worn it as long as Calanthe had known him. He slowly stepped closer, the sound of his steps having a strange, almost clicking sound, as if his feet weren't flesh, but bone, despite them clearly being visible. His eyes found hers in the red glow, his expression neutral for the moment. Finally Bryn spoke, his voice a little hoarse.

"Calanthe, how long has it been?"

Calanthe was now contemplating how to answer him. She moved her hands with a shake as she cupped his face. Her fingers felt what the wight had for skin and she gave a sad smile. She was trying to adapt. “A few months. Enough for things to change severely. It took a while to even be able to make it to this place. I… struggled.” She had the cloak wrapped around her but it was clear she was much smaller than before.

Angela was going to be angry. Bryn could have been angry with her. She couldn’t tell through those red eyes he had. Even her fingers seemed to have lost some weight in her mourning. “Mother said you were gone but she wouldn’t explain the hows or whys. She said I should just not be sad.” It was something a mother would say. “But that isn’t how it worked at all.” Her words were so soft as she let her eyes eat him whole.

Against her pale skin, the coldness was bringing a bright pink color to her face. Though her eyes seemed a tad lifeless at the moment. She was trying to search her words to tell him how she felt. “I didn’t know this was what would happen. She didn’t tell me anything. I wanted to know.”

Calanthe's fingers found skin, normal human skin, but cold to the touch, the same temperature as the air around them. But somehow Bryn knew that wouldn't last, he was no longer a god so it stood to reason that dawn would bring the same change it had done before. His expression remained neutral, he was still processing everything she said, noting the changes in her. It wasn't that he was unmoved, but his mind was still struggling to connect to being conscious again. One cold hand reached up to touch hers, his fingers strong, she'd weakened, but he still appeared to be in the prime of health apart from his pallor. Then he stepped back, moving just out of touching distance. "Perhaps touching me isn't the best idea." He looked at his hands, "A wight's touch has been known to drain the living of vitality." He hadn't felt strengthened as he had done when he'd drained others, but if she had weakened like she appeared to in just a few months he didn't want to risk it happening.

Angela's words brought the first expression to Bryn's face, one of shock. "For a mother she seems to know little of nurturing a hurt child." He respected Angela as a goddess, but as a person it seemed she lacked some of the instincts even an undead creature such as he knew were normal. "She's all about life and birth, what lies beyond is probably a blank to her." It would make sense, after all what lay beyond the boundary was as close to the opposite of Angela's realm as possible.

He gestured to the walls of his tomb, where the letters still cast their glow, "This is what happens, the magic of this barrow curses me to wake as an unliving being until all that is taken from me is returned."

Calanthe nodded to him and frowned a bit. “I understand.” She didn’t want to move her hand as she pulled away from him. “I promise I’ll try to get better.” She didn’t want to go on without touching him. That was the whole point of coming here.

Shaking her head Calanthe gave him a smile. “I think she just didn’t want to tell me you were gone. She’s been struggling lately. She took the whole slice of life and now she is swamped in a new power she barely has a grasp on. I think she has just forgotten what loss feels like. That and… She didn’t want me to find you. Her heart was in the right place. She’s just been busy.”

She held the crown to her and looked at the walls. “Well, I have it you know. What I took but I know that you favor it greatly.” She brought shifted the crown and put it into her bag. “I’m going to anger mother doing this. She hasn’t been completely well these past few months since the Tree made her take on extra responsibilities but.. Then again I am being selfish right now.” She looked up at Bryn. “What do you want from me? Should I give you the crown back or would you stay with me?”

She would incur the wraith of a god for him.

Bryn didn't want her to pull back either, but until she was better he had concerns about what prolonged contact with him might do, especially as he didn't know how close it was till dawn. Angela not telling Calanthe where he was buried made some sense, if she didn't know how to bring him back, or if she did know, if it would work again, or not knowing what he'd be like once returned to this realm. The risk was too great that Calanthe on finding just bare bones which wouldn't rise would give up all hope whatsoever. But another part of him thought that it wasn't Angela's choice to make, and that Calanthe's excuses for Angela's behaviour was just that, an excuse rather than a reason.

He considered her offer for a moment, he could take back the crown, return to his slumber having had a chance to say a proper goodbye to Calanthe, but what then for her? At the same time his wight nature called out for his crown, it weighed on him, seemed to warp the world around it to focus his attention squarely on that. Finally he tore his gaze from it, finding that unconsciously he'd take a pace forward. Shaking his head Bryn looked at Calanthe. "I suggest a trade." He took a ring from his finger and placed it on the floor in front of Calanthe and stepped back. That way she could take it, leave the crown and so he would still have had something taken from him, but not the thing which most called to him.

In truth? Calanthe didn’t know completely what Angela’s reasoning was. She probably was making a wild excuse for her mother but in the end, only the goddess knew. Angela wasn’t naturally a bad person and so that was why Calanthe was having a hard time trying to think of a good reason the woman did it. Slipping it from her mind she stared up at Bryn with a smile. “A trade?” She held the crown tighter to her.

“Will that work?” She was not overly knowledgeable on what a wight could and could not do. If Bryn said it worked all she could do was listen to him. She had watched him come towards her, rather towards the crown if she had to make an observation. “If you think it will work.” She reached out and took the ring from him. She placed the crown where she had picked the ring up. It was easier to take the ring than to hold the crown hostage.

Taking her necklace off she slipped it onto the loop and refastened the golden braid of metal. “I knew that the crown would be the thing that would call out to you more. I would wear the ring but I think your hands are bigger than mine… so we can put it here next to my rose.” She smiled up at him.  “Are you going to be alright Bryn?” She held out her arms and stopped herself from going and being with him. “I suppose the first thing to do… would be for me to try and eat.” It had been a while.

She pulled her bag around and found the twig of feasting. She tapped it on the ground as she sat down. In a glow of brilliant light, an entire meal was laid out. She looked up at Bryn. “Do you need to eat?” She oddly had a hard time remembering if she had ever seen him eat in the Eyrie. She picked up food quickly and began to eat. It caused her to cough a few times as her fastening ended. She looked more tired by the end of her meal than how she first stared at him. Instead of just curling up on the ground she pulled her harp to her and began to gently play. “Should we stay here for now? Or do we go find some place to sleep because I’m tired Bryn.” Even though it was barely day the young bard had been up for a long time at this point. 

Bryn shrugged a little at the question as to whether the exchange would work, but that had been how it had worked the last time he had been woken, although the effect of reuniting with all his possessions had been rather different from what he'd expected. He didn't think that doing so would have quite the same effect now however so if he was to remain he'd let Calanthe keep the ring. Touching the crown sent a shiver through him, almost as if the world swung into better focus than before. For a brief moment the crown glowed with a cold blue light, and spectral wisps seemed to coruscate around it. Something in Bryn seemed to relax, a subtle tension in his shoulder eased. While he could feel the pull of something missing, the ring obviously, it wasn't as strong as with the crown, perhaps it was because the crown was linked to his sense of self whereas the ring was just an object. While the urge was there he didn't place the crown on his head, for a start the ceiling was rather low, and whenever he wore it he felt more connected to the other side, could even call some of his former companions through the veil to aid him. It made him feel even less human than normal.

Calanthe eating was probably the best idea he'd heard recent, however he shook her offer of food away. "While I can eat while in this form it doesn't fill me or satisfy." He smiled a little sadly, "Plus I think right now you need it more than I do." He could do much that a mortal could while in his current form, however as soon as the sun came out he would return to one of his far less vital states and it would be rendered moot.

Almost as if summoned he felt the change from night to day begin, he threw the hood over his head, unwilling for Calanthe to see him like that. Beneath the cloak his skin first became sunken, then wasted, his eyes buried deep in their sockets, and his hair white and thin as spider silk. The only thing visible to Calanthe would be his hands, which had become spiderlike, the joints almost painfully pronounced. Finally Bryn spoke, his voice more of a whispering rasp than the soft voice he'd previously used. "Perhaps staying here for the day would be better, at least at night I can move about without having to be constantly shrouded."