Kieran - the Last Braveheart of the Wilshere Clan - came from the skies of his world and to soar in another's. Here, the crackling blue of his lightning wings was shrouded by the black of an everlasting darkness. Below him, the Grim Pasture met his arrival with a familiar sight; a silent fog seeping over a decrepit township. He landed, and felt the omnipresent dread rolling in the air. In the distance, he saw the haunting skeletal glow of ghouls desperate to feast on every positive emotion they came across. And as he felt as though he'd never feel cheerful again, like all those foolish enough to walk this part of the Black Hallows, Kieran turned round to catch sight of a man-shaped thing sitting against a gravestone.
It's skin was the color of burnt ash, and it's piano key teeth chattered from the cold. It pulled it's knees to it's chest with it's long boneless arms, and peered up at him with a blank stare from gaping holes of white where it's eyes should be. It smiled at him. "Hello", it's smiled widened, as though it were incapable of anything else. And perhaps it wasn't. Why else smile and echo a sweet, wet voice in a place so barren of joy? Because as much as it's shape resembled man's, it was anything but. Though what, Kieran couldn't say and didn't care to. He'd come to see Fraga, son of Ezra Strix. He turned away, and his muscled arms plucked the vibranium pollaxe from his back. The journey to the City of Blackpool would be dangerous, and he'd take no chances. Not here. Not in a place where even gods never strode.
And he couldn't fly, not with the Void staring down at him from above. It would suck him in, and corrupt him, hollow out his humanity. He could only walk, for he was not of this world.
That sweet wet voice echoed again. The chills ran down his spine, and Kieran's anger, his frustration - with Morgana, Travis, with everything - boiled over. Yet as he spun at the heel with a warrior's urgency, the Last Braveheart found that it was not him the man-shaped thing had spoken to. "Aeron!", Kieran smiled, his face brightening like a sun this world would never see. Slinging his pollaxe over his back and rushing to her side with a heart swarmed with a joy that drew lurid gazes from the ghouls stalking the land, Kieran pulled Aeron into his arms and surrendered to the moment. He cupped her cheeks and kissed her forehead, his smile never fading, "Blood hell woman, what in Lord's name are you doing here?".
The question lingered in the air, and as Kieran waited for an answer, so did Ezra Strix as he sat against a gravestone. Kieran's mother and father buried under him.