Cathar – many years hence...

The catacombs of Imram'Lien ran like twisted veins beneath the surface of Cathar. While the sun scorched the sands above, the chambers beneath the wastelands were cold. There, scarce little light or warmth was to be found. In a broad circular chamber that no other had laid eyes upon in centuries, Vega Van-Derveld knelt in the cold and the darkness. His tunic was rough-spun and his trousers made from tattered cloth, bleached and sweat-stained alike, but he did not shiver in the chill. He dipped his head to the ground and pressed his forehead against the cool stone slabs underfoot.

“Blessed bloodline, preserve us,” he murmured against the stone, holding the position of reverence for a long moment before he lifted his head and let his eye fall upon the idol. The statue that dominated the chamber.

Carved of polished white onyx, the vornskr sat in stoic silence. It's gazed down upon him, indomitable, majestic. An imagine of fierce divinity, fashioned by his own hand. Behind the statue, almost unseen in the gloom, shadows deepened in the relief of a frieze depicting other beasts, each proud Lupine head bowed in supplication to the white onyx. Numbered in their dozens, they offered their submission - but only he could look upon her. Only he could set foot in this most sacred of chambers. Only he was worthy. Only he.

Vega breathed in deeply, his nostrils all at once full of a familiar scent. A small smile tugged at the scar that bisected the corner of his mouth.

“My lady.”