The ghost in the tower had barely stirred from his silent meditation and grieving for longer than even it knew. Had he been there for days? Or weeks? He didn't remember. All he knew was the scene before at the tower, when he interrupted the spell to bring her back. She was truly better off away from him, he had learned that much already. First she fell in battle because he couldn't save her. Then he ruined her resurrection by misunderstanding it and interrupting the ritual. Was this his curse acting out against her now as well? No his curse never acted out in this manner before. He had had more than four hundred years to explore the depths of depravity wrought against him, this was something else.
Something of this world, something of this plane. Here things did not obey the laws in which he was accustomed to, this plane was different, unique. And he had yet to understand its subtle differences. For the most part everything here was as normal as it was everywhere else he had been. But it was all slightly off, slightly different. He had first felt it on the beach, never before had he been caught off guard as he was with that rouge wave. And then in her as she passed her grace to him to heal his wounds and aches.. he had never been healed by magic before, his curse made it all but impossible.
Silently he sat in his vigil, his rapier faith the center of his attentions. Her green blade shining in the light of the lone candle of his room. That light however was not his only companion. In his own mind he waged a war with more than just regret. His own personal demon had stirred in his depression, and it clawed at the back of his mind trying to find a way into the sanctum that protected his being. If it ever got in the dominant persona would change again. He would become that which he feared. He would become a harbinger of death, and a bringing of destruction. He would not let that out here as he had before in his own home.
And yet even in the darkness of night, and the stillness of his room he heard her cry. One word echoed off the hum in his steel. Shattered his ever watchful vigil and broke his concentration. That word was not important, it was the voice that spoke it. His eyes flashed open, a violet flame burning in side emerald hues. His right hand snapped outward. Snagged faith by her hilt ans he was gone.
Nearly instantaneously he was elsewhere I the castle. Standing, his blade at the ready behind the backs of the Shadowguard. “No” he answered them with one word. “That cannot be it.” He lowered the tip of his sword, walked strait to the man that had seen her. Pressed his will onto him like a lead weight. Dominated his mind and ripped the thoughts form him that he wanted. Before Lyo's mind the scene replayed in an instant, and as he opened his eyes again. The man fell over. “She is suffering, she needs us” his words were questioning as he contemplated what to do, and gave the guards in front of him little attention.
