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RONIN if there's one thing i'm good at, it's surviving So much had happened in a pitifully short space of time. His engagement to Remi; battles over leadership; Safrin’s fall (and there was still an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach over that). And yet, in the dark of the night when all was silent, Ronin still came back to his meeting with the Voice, when he and Amalia had spoken with her at the Atheneum. She had said... a lot of things to him. Called him a not-man, claimed them to be similar... and he daren’t ask Safrin right now, not when she was so unwell. And so it was that Ronin found himself standing before a tree in the Woodlands that was unlike any other, that pulsed and glittered obsidian in the moonlight. He frowned, already feeling like he ought to go, pushing his hands into his pockets. ”Is... is anyone there?”

Not tonight, not-man. A breeze whispers through the trees surrounding the shrine, rustling leaves and creaking branches, but nothing stirs within the obsidian trunk where the hunter stands. He is to be left without answers, at least for now - a sentinel in the dark for a goddess that does not recognise him.