My dreams have all come true

Where is Wolfbane? Where is he?
Has he gone inside himself, unwilling to believe that Beqanna was thrust into certain turmoil?
Is he hoping that someone else will take this burden from his shoulders and turn it into legacy?

No.
Wolfbane is among them, having finished his conversation with Noah at the outskirts of this (perhaps her) new land. He and Lepis have been woolgathering, it’s true, but what they gather is wool meant to clothe and shelter the rest, because he knows they’ll have questions.
Where is Wolfbane? Being the first.

“I’m here.” He barks out from the distance, approaching the gathered and reading their hungry expressions. Something in his tone is patronly, warm, but it belies a quiet strength and an unspoken command of silence! The eyes need only look, not speak. His wings rest curved and wicked at his sides, sweat and determination soaking him through to the bone. Vulgaris is here, Electra and Titus … Arthas. These, himself, and his Queen Lepis are who remains. The rest will either come back in time or not come at all. Beqanna spins on.

“What a mess.” Their Lord spits onto the new earth, resting his weary legs as he comes to halt alongside the other pegasus stallion. His intention had been to return home and ask for Titus to finally join his ranks as Paladin, completing the full deck, and here he was dealing with rampant sickness, on top of a now useless war. “Lepis has mapped our new world, I’ve yet to fly over and see it myself. This stretch of territory -” He pauses, blue-masked head swinging side-to-side as if to sweep a knowing eye over the verdant pastures and wildflowers, “- is Loess’. A newcomer mare asks for dominion over it. Since I, nor any of you that I know of, can be in three places entirely I’m curious enough to give her a chance. Her name is Noah, and she would secede any competition for a higher title. She aims to heal and I aim to keep a healer.” The striped drake proposes, withholding the chance for anyone to speak yet as he dives into the larger, more personal matters of succession.

“As for Sylva.” Bane lowers his voice, both olive drab eyes locking onto the King-who-would-be Arthas. “Our need for two Kingdoms vanished, so your games of war and empty threats are over, sir.” The brute clipped out, hanging onto that last word as someone might hang on to an insult. Division in chaos breeds failure, and Wolfbane intends with every fibre of his being to have Loess and her people rise like so many phoenix's from their ashes once this ordeal passes over. “You can be with us or against us Arthas. Only one choice allows you to stay, choose wisely.”

“Vulgaris.” Their leader says, “If you think you can withstand it, I’d have you take hold of the autumn forest and lead her.” Hard words are hard words, coming from a mouth that likes compromise, but they have to be said all the same. “While other kingdoms are contemplating abandon, I want us to stay unified even if there are only a handful of us. I could see this place housing Loess peacekeepers and Sylva raising her warriors. I personally want to ride this out in Loess, where I belong and where I believe I can combat the illness if I contract it.” The long-winded speech goes, closing on a heavy sigh that passes through Wolfbane’s inky blue lips.

He leaves them with this: “Come, speak to me now. Tell me I’m an idiot or a genius. Let’s do this, but let’s do this together.”

Like all good nightmares do