RangarAfter almost four hundred years alone, he had given up hope of the gods blessing him with a JewelTone. Loneliness had been etched into every fiber of his being.

He longed for the one female that would make his chest cabochon sing for her and her alone. The atrocities of war had hardened him, but his heart remained unchanged by the evil he vanquished from his world.

It was his duty to maintain the peace, but all he longed for was the one that would complete his soul. Didn't he deserve peace as well? A chance encounter in the small coastal village of Gillif, with a female young enough to be his offspring, sparked the coveted JewelTone bond and his joy knew no bounds.

. .

until she ran from him. It was an unfortunate decision on her part.

She will feel his wrath, and whether she will accept him and the deep well of love, he has to offer remains to be seen. PimHer days were spent healing.

It didn't matter if it was a living being, water in need of purifying, or the land itself. Her duty was the same.

The gods had given her a gift, and it was her duty to use it to help those that she could, comfort those she could not, and preserve the health of the land. It was unlike her to be selfish and self-centered; her very nature was that of one who gave selflessly to those around her.

However, she made a mistake, and it wasn't something small, like forgetting to douse the flamescones after leaving her room for the day. She ran from her fated JewelTone.

Her brow cabochon sung for him. She panicked and fled from him with undue haste.

Now, because of her actions, she has partially fractured her matebond. .

. and infuriated Rangar of the WarWrath.

Two things a being is never supposed to do, both edicts are taught to one and all from a young age. As a healer, it is her responsibility to heal wounds, not create them.

It's time to face her responsibilities and the repercussions of her actions. The well of her power knows no depths, but can she repair what she's broken, or is she doomed to a loveless bond? Meanwhile, an old enemy lurks.

She cares not for the lives of being she considers insignificant and beneath her. She is ever watchful and hungers for the taste of magically imbued flesh.

Her gaze is locked on the small village of Gillif for there is something there that has piqued her interest. The horde is coming.

. .

. .