<i>The staccato of feet against tremulous grass. The pulse of frantic melodies, the thrum of desperation. The rhythm of his heart, locked behind a bony cage, held such powerful reverberations. It shook his core as fiercely as anxiety shook his brittle nerves. Staggering through the gates, a new brand of cold sept into his sinew. <br/>
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The wind dashed along a widening world, where acres of lonely white stretched long beyond. Moon-kissed slopes sat aglow with purple blaze, settled winter flakes stirring from their quiet slumber beneath the frigid ministrations of zephyr. The lamented call of the unknown sung, accentuated by the mourning bell of his spirit. An endless plane carrying an immense silence.<br/>
<br/>
A solemn breath punctuates a single, damning thought.<br/>
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<b>He was alone.</b></i><br/><br/>With a stern shake, he freed his mind from such a reminiscence. It wouldn’t serve him, it would only hinder his goal.<br/><br/>A goal he’d keep, no matter what.<br/><br/>A determined gaze locked upon the treacle of eminence before him. A grandiose building, crafted from the smoothest ores and the brightest shades—truly constructed with the lifeblood of its makers. He glanced at one of the silken columns, clasped in a gossamer sheen of reflective care.<br/><br/>For a moment, he hadn’t recognized his own reflection.<br/><br/>His figure was the same; imposing, lined strongly with stiff jagged scales. Scales of bleeding vermillion, arctic white, ominous black, hypnotic green, and crackling blue intermingled—fossilized under layers of earthen rigidity, to drape down the roots of taut sinew. A vast and imposing strength in oscillating shades.  His maw still swept crookedly over the scarf that encompassed his throat, his features the epitome of a stylus on rock; sharp, jagged, and brutally defined. The outline of his jutting jaws and narrowed teeth a constant dark shadow over the cliff side.<br/><br/>It was his eyes that were different. The languid rippling gold had shifted into an inextinguishable fire—vassals of his anger. He closed his lids over the roiling masses, breathing until they settled, wrapt in belying chains.<br/><br/><i>It takes more than anger to win a war.</i><br/><br/>He stepped forward, sundering the noxious vapor of vengeance to don  an aura of tranquility as deceptive as tall grass swathing a lurking serpent.<br/><br/>The interior was just as magnificent, clad in monochromatic tones just as it’s exterior, gifted by this wintry land.<br/><br/>It was there that a curious sight unveiled itself.<br/><br/>A woman and a Wolf.<br/><br/>The Wolf, with its flowing silver coat, and her, enveloped in a hefty cloak. Some conniving inner workings wondered what secrets hid beyond, what thoughts existed beneath the waves of lunar tresses—within the confinement of her mind.<br/><br/><i>“This is the Arcaneum, correct?”</i>Came his inquiry, in tandem with a steady approach. He spoke with the resounding note of the earth—with the tremulous cadence of caverns.