... you can sharpen your knife [SET&TATTER]

[Set]

He can see almost immediately that his distraction has little effect on the rampaging Yael. Somehow, despite her fury and intentions on making Straia and the Chamber pay for their transgressions, she was able to circumvent his mental defenses and see he and Eight coming. To add insult to insult, she had disappeared, taking the chances of a skyborne brawl with her. Screeching in annoyance, the three other dragons disappear, melting into the atmosphere from whence they'd come, leaving a magical char on the air before fading away. It's then that his link to Niklas gives a little tug. The demon-boy was in place. One corner of his mouth curves upward as he shifts back to horse form, retaining the great, leathery dragon wings on his descent to solid ground. At some point Evrae appears, dousing the fire, refacing the Chamber, but he pays her little mind. The trees have been laid on rather thick and with a huff of annoyance, he crushes several, striped hooves touching down on a small hill of fresh pine chips. He shields his thoughts and actions from any onlookers, limbs jigging with the anticipation of rejoining the bedlam. Well done, Niklas, he whispers, though his lips remain unmoving, yellow eyes trained on his surroundings. The low din of battle is somewhere off to the north and east, the smell of burnt forest and singed flesh thick on the air. His son's mind is different than the others -- the quiet is eerie, the thoughts alien, the memories endless. Set curls into it, not without caution, for the creature that he calls son is perhaps the most ancient being he's ever encountered. "Tatter," Niklas says in Set's voice. "Tatter, my son, it's time to rejoin the living." A ghostly footstep. The hellhound at Niklas' feet whines and shifts to a standing position, ears pricked in the direction of the sound. The demon's mouth tightens as shadows begin to eke from his body. They drift close to one another, gathering together to form a shapeless entity, low, anguished screams echoing from their unseen depths. A few seconds pass as they shift before forming a body. A new body in its prime, perfectly detailed to Tatter's long gone and rotting flesh. Niklas regards it with a blank expression, white eyes narrowing as Set once again speaks through him. "Follow your brother through the portal and both of you come find me." Not dreaming that either will disobey, Set withdraws from Niklas' mind, severing the link but leaving in place an anonymous protection, impenetrable by mind or matter. skin to bone, steel to rust