Maelle woke up at the temple where he desecrated the image of the Crimson Wolf.
There was no one else with him. His mind was momentarily filled with confusion, and the eminent rage he felt from having Faestien's emotions lingered like a bloodstain on his face, the smell procuring some bloodlust.
He turned to the desecrated image of his deity. One he colored red with his own hands. He bowed slightly and said in a light whisper.
"I have returned, old friend. I ask your guidance from determining this being that took us away from the material realm."
The ruined image did not move or do anything extraordinary, yet the eyes shone with a strange gleam that seems to be aware and omniscient. After sending his regards, Maelle left the temple and pulled his white shawl over his head.
