He was whole again, and the sight of his family desperately defending the powered Gateway while Ainsley shouted orders tore through the haze of confusion. Far away, he knew the Nightmare had willingly given his life in order to stop the rampage of the Kinslayer, and that... was why he was whole again.

He was Maxim Redmont, the Kinslayer -- and though dishonored by his actions, he wasn't about to abandon the Redmonts. He opened fire almost immediately with the revolver, suddenly turning to place his back towards the remaining Absolutioneers as he began lashing out towards the Navidians who were slowly overcoming the much smaller Redmont force that was dwindling both due to death, and due to retreating through the Gateway. Another moment passed, and he could see a sudden blaze of emerald-colored flames bursting outwards in beautiful, though deadly arcs of destruction. Seconds later, Jass Strata was by his side, pressing her lips to his in a brief kiss that brought a rush of memories -- some more regretful than others. "Wonderful of you to join us, Maxim," she had teasingly whispered, before slipping into position alongside him -- just as a streak of icy spikes had torn across the battlefield in front of them, defending the Kinslayer and even the Temptress from the onslaught temporarily. Danika McKennah was a brutal force to be reckoned with on that battlefield, letting arrows fly in tandem with bursts of icy power. "We're not going to be able to hold this position forever! Sooner or later, we need to fall back!" she had shouted, as the explosions from the sudden bursts of magical energy grew louder.

Maxim could sense the power radiating from the opened Gateway, and knew when Ainsley had finished setting up the rites that would close the rift permanently once they were through. Once they had retreated, there would be no returning to that place. Their home had been decimated by both his rampage, and by the Navidians under the command of Lumine Ravenholm. Whatever hope the Redmonts had, it was in the Outlands. "All forces, retreat to the Gateway! Danika, cover the Absolutioneers -- Jass and I will protect Ainsley," he relented, as he reloaded the extensively modified revolver with more metal rounds of ammunition. His saber was drawn as well, and when a Navidian soldier drew too close, they were either set ablaze by an enraged Strata demoness or cut to shreds by his blade.

"Our time is up, Maxim!" Ainsley screamed. With the incantation complete, she was turning her attention to their enemies and slaughtering those within range, often by tearing them limb from limb. Only then, did he realize they were the last four Redmonts there, and the remaining Absolutioneers were just slipping into the portal, disappearing into the haze of crimson light. Danika was following, but not before winking towards the former slayer.

"We will not be denied! Fight us, Redmonts!" The voice was familiar, almost impossible not to recognize. In the midst of the carnage, stood Lumine Ravenholm in the Djarai armor, with a sinister smile upon his face. Blood dripped from shards of bones, and Jass prepared to lunge at him -- until Maxim placed a hand upon her shoulder and stepped in front of her. "This is for me." The end of that statement was punctuated with a deafening explosion from the barrel of the revolver, and blood erupted from the sudden hole in Lumine's stomach; even the demon uttered a cry of pain, before staring at the three who stood in front of the shimmering Gateway.

They left him there, though none of them could have ever known that it wouldn't be the last time they'd curse the name, 'Ravenholm'....

Nearly three weeks had passed since he had left the Outlands, choosing to venture into Aleris. He had rejected the crown of the Redmont family after they had recovered from the battle, and when he learned that the Ravenholm was the ruler of the realm, he had locked himself away within his private chambers in the growing estate/base of Northcrest. The fact that he had been torn in half by the sudden appearance of the Nightmare didn't matter -- as far as the wandering Redmont was concerned, he was stripped of the one thing he cherished most: his honor. It reflected in his appearance, lacking the beautiful symmetry of the armor he had once worn. Instead, a blackened overcoat adorned the musculature of a flawless physique, trimmed in a shade of crimson that resembled the cloak he had worn, once upon a time. The newly-fashioned sigil of the united Redmont Bloodline was displayed upon his right shoulder, the sleeves of the garment rolled up to expose the muscular tone of his forearms. Fiery eyes of luminous scarlet stared at the road ahead, which was desolate save for a couple of roaming guards that probably belonged to the town he'd just left.

"Excuse us, sir. Planning on traveling to the capital of Aleris? If so, you may want to consider taking the train, as it t-" "Out of my way," Maxim murmured, shoving both guards aside with a rough push of both hands. There was no further aggression on his part; it seemed the Redmont had tired of mindless warfare, for the most part. "Sir, with an attitude like that, the local marshal might mistake you for that thief she's been searching for. She's been on this road for the last few days, looking for some guy who stole some kind of artifact fr-" He turned to face them, and the sudden glare left both sentries speechless; they wisely chose to fall silent after that, and resume their patrol.

He continued moving along that deserted road with a leisurely stride; for the first time in years, Maxim had no intended destination. The politics and issues in Aleris didn't concern him. In fact, since his arrival, he had made certain to stay out of sight. His name was unknown, and only a few had been foolish enough to try and steal from him.

He was armed only with that elegant, over-sized revolver that still seemed perfectly suited to matching his form; perhaps even moreso with his new attire. Dark tendrils of uneven hair contrasted with pale, handsome features that wouldn't ever be touched by age, and added to the charm of the formerly murderous Redmont. The saber he had used was discarded, left behind in Northcrest to provide evidence of his departure. He only hoped that a new leader would arise in his absence -- one that wouldn't make the mistakes that he had.

It wasn't long before he reached a river; winter was already closing in as the days passed, and that far north, the first few snowflakes had started to fall already. The black-clad Kinslayer stood out against the white background, his form illuminated by moonlight. It hadn't been so long ago that he and his wife had met numerous times upon a similar bridge of stone, both as foes and lovers. He stared for a moment at his reflection upon the rippling surface of the water, before looking away; again, the locale somehow managed to stir up old memories that the undead Redmont had been working to bury, in a failing attempt to start again, and regain his lost honor. "I should've walked away long before this..."

How does it feel when all you're counting on is the pain?
Every wind that you've sailed upon, a hurricane.
Every summer you have seen was filled with April rain...
It doesn't get easy, don't you know?

Count your blessings, and prepare to change your point of view.
All those days that you've spent waiting, they won't come back to you.
Take off those glasses that have treated your world black and gray...
It doesn't get easy, don't you know?

Fortune smiles upon you -- you're not watching, so dig that hole a little deeper...
Fortune smiles upon you -- you're not watching, so create your own fate...

Someone had once asked Elysia after the death of a loved one, "How can death be linked to compassion when it steals the souls of those who were most treasured in our lives?" Elysia sat with the mourner for a long while, letting the silence only be broken by the sobs of the newly widowed woman next to her. Her husband was now gone for the afterlife and held within Elysia's care; he was not unjustly taken, but died by old age as most people do when they are plagued with humanity.

Elysia moved her hand over to the woman's shoulder who gasped suddenly, then went still. "Do not think of this as something being stolen from you. It takes compassion to heal the wounds of death, to fully understand the sorrows of loss, and grasp the knowledge of why things came to be. There is not a day that goes by where your husband will not stop loving you, even in death. I ensure his soul is safe within my hands and that one day, you will return to each other."

It was this promise and the recent theft that had made Elysia more aware of her vulnerability lately. One of Alerion's brothers had been taken from her, his soul now hanging in some unknown place. It made her wary to think anyone could just snatch souls from her. Perhaps the deities of Aleris were just as prone to mistakes as humans were. What if the soul that has been stolen was the woman's husband instead? The result would not be as jeopardizing, but Elysia would not have been able to uphold her oath.

Winter was starting to drift lazily along the realm of Aleris. The leaves were falling off the trees and Autumn, Galenous' season, started to fade out gracefully. The warm colors of Autumn were beautiful and she would strangely miss them; orange, gold and crimson were previously scattered about the ground, but it was during this time where she felt most powerful and confident. Before the season of ice was over, she vowed to herself that she would find both the thief and her own defender - a Templar.

She found Maxim Redmont silhouetted against a white background - thin snow that had layered onto the ground. The Redmont King stood on the bridge, consumed in his own thoughts, the quiet nearly overwhelming. Elysia moved towards Maxim and was by his side before he could even realize that someone else was there, watching him.

Elysia was dressed in leather clothing, an outfit which mostly looked like riding gear - brown, simple and worn. Over this she wore a coat and scarf to protect from the frigid temperature. The clothing she found a bit irritating, as it kept her warm and she would have rather embraced the winter winds. Elysia appeared more normal than she did usually; her hair was slightly longer and her skin a milky white. Nothing illustrated her as a goddess.

"People say running away never solves any problem," Elysia began. "Maybe they are right, but they also say time heals all wounds."

Her hands lifted for a moment and she shrugged as if the riddles of life were even too much for her to comprehend. Elysia turned her dark eyes to gaze towards the face of the Kinslayer. He seemed content enough out here alone, but Elysia had her own agendas and felt Maxim Redmont could be a valuable asset at best.

"My name is Lyseria, the Marshal. The man back there," Elysia said pointing behind her, "seemed to have been frightened by you. You are already aware that something of great importance has been stolen from our Goddess Elysia? I have been appointed the task of investigations to help recover this ancient artifact, and so I must ask Maxim Redmont, leader of the Outlands, have you seen anyone suspicious lately?"

"You know nothing of me, woman. I advise you to choose your words carefully; accuse me of nothing, or suffer the consequences." The words were issued with a cold, yet charmed voice that was inevitably laced with malevolence and disgust, and emphasized by the way one gloved hand fell so that fingers could brush against the hilt of that arcane, rune-emblazoned revolver at his side. Fiery eyes of brilliant, luminescent scarlet were leveled upon the marshal as she stood there next to him, but he eventually shifted his attention towards the soft white hue of the wintry landscape that surrounded them. Possibly the most intriguing aspect of the weaponry he chose happened to be carved stakes, lining the front of the belt he wore; few slayers ever retained the trademark weaponry of the profession if they were corrupted and turned.

It was silent for several more minutes, before he closed his eyes and shook his head in what most would've assumed to be annoyance or even mild disinterest towards her. "You're certainly misinformed, for local authority. The Ravenholm 'Empire' rules the Outlands, and," he paused, casting a chilling glare towards her, "I no longer lead the Redmonts, either. Hence why I've come here, to Aleris. Your 'Goddess' and her problems are of no concern to me, Marshal; even if I knew what this artifact was, and where to find it..."

"...I wouldn't help you."

Muscular shoulders lifted beneath the ebony-shaded material of that overcoat in a faint shrug of indifference, the garment briefly allowing a glimpse of the armor he wore, as well as extra ammunition for that revolver. The soft breeze that rushed around the pair left uneven, dark tendrils of uneven, shoulder/chin-length hair in further disarray, though it admittedly added a bit of youth to a strikingly handsome face. There was a hint of a smile that dared to form as he turned away from her, barely exposing the lethally sharp tips of whitened fangs that marked him for the vampire he was -- and it was reminiscent of the vengeful, bloodthirsty leader who had led the Brood in war after war some five years ago, just after he had been reborn in undeath as one of the very creatures that he had been trained to destroy... and quite possibly, the finest example of the species.

"You know nothing of my problems, Marshal. Before my family chose exile, and retreated into the Outlands because of my nightmarish actions, we were powerful," the former slayer explained, a departure from his normal course of action concerning those who dared approach him. "We laid waste to everything that had the misfortune of crossing our path; from the Ravenholms and their Bluefield allies, to those Redmonts who had sworn to uphold the cause of the light. Under my command, the Brood was nigh unstoppable. But... the situation changed, and due to a nightmare... I lost control. In that, I cast aside even my honor in pursuit of war, a challenge -- and my family suffered for it. Truly, you know nothing. The Ravenholms, an enemy so despised that both sides of the Redmont line would band together against them, rule our only home. Speak to me of running away from problems once more, and I'll tear you apart."The finality of that statement was sudden, and carried with it the weight of the threat he'd just made; she likely wouldn't have any trouble determining that he'd hunt her to the ends of the realm if she dared to utter such words once more. Anger was much more prominent, and it had been since his betrayal; ever since that fateful night where humanity had cast him aside in order to save themselves, he rarely restrained his infamous temper.

He glanced back over one shoulder at the woman, with that cold stare; devoid of emotion, save for the obvious presence of animosity. Lightning crackled across the cloudy, darkened skies not far from their position; the familiar scent of rain was in the air, and it was fairly obvious a storm was incoming. "Perhaps you should try searching for somebody who would've needed an artifact, Marshal, assuming it held any purpose. Theft doesn't always require greed; in some cases, it only requires desperation and necessity," Maxim suggested, nevertheless. He granted her a slight nod out of courtesy -- a gesture that stemmed from honor, and respect between warriors that seemed almost archaic, but somehow... left the Redmont with a touch of nobility in his aura, beneath the undead shroud of malevolence and blood-lust.

And without further words to her, the former slayer began to walk away. Despite the obvious dishonor that he felt consumed by, his head was held high, and the flare of determination was still evident in the bright luminescence of those scarlet-shaded eyes. As the first few drops of rain began to fall, there was even the slightest hint of a familiar smile fading away from those pale features.

For war was indeed coming to Aleris, and the spark of rage would be ignited far sooner than anybody could've ever thought...

Even when Maxim had his hands upon his weapon, as if he were ready to strike at her, Elysia did not flinch. She did not reach even for her own twin sabers that hung ready and encased in sheaths lying against her hips. Instead, she stood calmly and was unmoved by the anger - and sadness - that radiated from Maxim's imposing figure. The cold winds blew past them sweeping snow against the dotted white landscape and Elysia listened very carefully to his words that were both strong and somehow lost.

The Goddess of Winter, in disguise to Maxim Redmont and any other passerby, suddenly moved as Maxim continued speak. Though it was not to challenge him by any means. She lifted her hand to her forehead, brushing away some of her now brown colored hair and kept her fingertips on her temples for a moment, rubbing gingerly as if she had a head ache or were very exhausted. Perhaps it was because she had been drowned in Maxim's speech, not expecting such a violent reaction from a man who looked like he was only seeking forgiveness at first. Now he appeared to be annoyed as well.

"So, the Ravenholms are in possession of the Outlands right now? This is something we were unaware of... and something not even the King was informed about," Elysia replied dropping her hand and looking into Maxim's eyes. "I did not intend to make you feel obligated to help me in anyway, sir. I merely asked a simple question and wanted a simple 'yes' or 'no' if you had seen anyone suspicious. My sincere apologies if I presented myself the wrong way. No harm intended."

Maxim was the first to turn away, though he did not move from her vision just yet. Instead, he stood poised on the bridge, honest and bitter words flowing from his lips. Even though Maxim had claimed that he would not assist her - that he did not give a damn what answers she sought - he had inadvertently helped her more than he realized. Truly it seemed like Maxim was plagued with thoughts of the Ravenholms overpowering his once strong family - that it haunted him more than he let on. Still, Elysia did not pry into his history any further.

"I never said I did know anything about your family," Elysia started as Maxim eventually circled and started to walk from her. "But nevertheless, you have told me more than I needed to know. I will further investigate with the Ravenholms then."

Travelling into the Outlands was a risky act and not because it was ruled by the Ravenholms. Elysia did not know any fear for this family's name, but if a deity of Aleris moved into the realm of an Outer Gate, it meant instant mortality. As soon as she would step foot from Aleris into the Outlands, she would become just as vulnerable as any other human.

Losing her thoughts, she watched as Maxim strode away and despite the previous emotion in his words, Elysia noticed the pride he still wore. It was a strange sort of pride, one that was still upheld by the past and one that was tortured by the present. Elysia's drew a hand in a small wave as he left, his back turned to her.

"People often are born into destinies they do not wish to have ever been a part of," Elysia said softly. "But with understanding - with compassion - we are able to change the hands of time and control our own fate."

It could have been said for anything - for a Marshal, for a leader, for a Goddess even.

And finally, she had turned from the escaping figure of the former slayer. Elysia gazed past the other side of the bridge towards the direction of the Outlands gate. The rain dropped down onto her hair now, plastering the brown tendrils against her pale skin, and started to create a slush with the snow that had fallen on the ground only a few moments ago. There was no getting around it; she needed to explore the Outlands or maybe lure out a Ravenholm to speak with. The balance of Aleris was on the edge thanks to the unknown thief and war threatened silently in the horizon.