» Hauntings & Healings

When there's madness, when there's poison in your head When the sadness leaves you broken in your bed Iskra had been pulled and prodded and led by the call of the Rift numerous times now, but as he was exploring the new-old realm (as bade, and because he wanted to), this time he was yanked. Likely it was his vial of god's blood, wolf god's blood, that lead him so hastily here. As if it recognized the stuttering phantom image of the great wolven deity, as if it cried out in need while the canine lord wrestled with ghosts of a different kind. Iskra was breathless as he came upon the scene, too awed at first to do anything but stand and watch. An assortment of horses were either enchanted by some apparition he couldn't make out or were vengefully chasing another one down, frequently herding closer and closer to the center where the wolf god tried to make his stand. It looked like war, and so Iskra hesitated. Hadn't battle brought on enough heart for an endless amount of lifetimes, no matter the realm? Wasn't that what this shit was all about? Hadn't he hurt enough as it was, that he didn't have to face this? He might have decided yes, and chosen not to partake, regardless of the gut-wrenching idea of simply standing and watching, of doing nothing like a snail in the rain. He might have let his thoughts wander to tales his mothers whispered at night, of tigers making isles out of the sea with strong claws, and wolf's fur turning into rampant, wild vines that snared just as easily as his magnificent teeth. Those things might have happened, if not for the fact a familiar voice lifted through the din. Even though iskra spotted Volterra and Otem, battling their own ghosts, it was the quiet despair of Melita that grabbed Iskra and ushered him to act. Something was hurting her, and Iskra wouldn't stand for it. He charged towards her, yelling out "Mel! Get back!" He dashed forward with a blast of super-heated air, meant to dispel the phantom, though just in case his wings lifted with their arcs of lightning sparks, set to flap and wave the electric wind at the fiend. He didn't fully understand what was happening, that it was her mother she saw, that it wasn't her mother. He just knew she needed help, and anyone who mattered to her wouldn't make her feel that way. Iskra I will hold you in the depths of your despair And it's all in the name of love

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Is yanked here by his wolf god's blood and tries to help @Melita dispel her wraith-mom with his heated air magic and zappy wings.