The world will begin to change and they will return. Wielding hands of flame and lightning with the sole intention of conquest. The spheres will collide and where will you be when that happens? when they come? And what will you decide? I am watching, always watching.

That damn dream again.

The same one that followed him almost every night, manifesting when he was most vulnerable. The white-haired woman always spoke vaguely and in riddles. Tycon, in his waking hours, could never decipher what she meant, or, if it meant anything at all.

He fluttered his eyes open, gazing to the ceiling above him, thinking.

Spheres, conquest, flame, and lightning.

Those were the words that stood out most to him. He had come to see much in his travels, yet always remained skeptical of the unknown, until the events in the tomb, now, he wasn’t so sure anymore. Zeke was definitely a mage, he knew that.

Was that what she meant? Were the dreams a warning?

He shifted to his side and saw Ambre, sleeping silently next to him, breathing softly. He studied her for a moment and admired her beauty. He stroked her head carefully, feeling the blonde strands of her hair slip between his fingers, he smiled to himself. The familiar scent of lavender emitted from her as she slept and he let it consume him momentarily. She helped turn his recent sleepless nights to ones of comfort and tranquility, for which, he was grateful, although he still had a newly formed habit of waking during the night, just as he had now.

Sitting up, he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror that hung on the nearby door, shirtless, his long blonde hair a mess and his skin pale. He shivered and made his way across the room, grabbing his coat and pulling it on. He slowly made his way toward the nearby frosted window, gazing out to the snow-covered streets below.

The town of Endon's Watch was a small one that was covered by snow the whole year-round. Days where the sun breached the overcast clouds were rare and treated as a privilege amongst the citizens that inhabited the place. The town was mostly dotted with cottages built of spruce wood.

By each end of the town were ancient stone watchtowers, he had passed one of them as he entered. They were built during a war long past, now serving as a post for the Winter's Peak guard, as well as the namesake of the town. That's what Ambre had told him at least.

Faint oil lamps dotted the town, looking like stagnant fire-flies, orange stars of the land.

As he watched a pair of guards make their rounds upon the snowy streets, he heard the sheets of the bed rustle followed by a feminine groan. Turning his head to meet the sound, he wasn't surprised to see Ambre sitting up and resting her head on her knees, observing him with vacant and tired eyes.

"Had the dream again did you?" She asked dozily.

Tycon nodded, "Yeah."

"What did she say?"

"The same thing as the night before," He paused, "And the night before that."

"Strange that you seem to dream of other women so often. Is there something you want to tell me?" She teased, giving him the devilish grin he had seen so long ago.

Tycon let out a chuckle, "The only thing I'm hiding from you is how damn cold I am."

Ambre patted the empty space he left on the mattress, "Then get back here, idiot."

Tycon let out a grin and brushed his hair back, " I'll be there in just a moment."

"Okay, I'll keep the bed warm for you," She shrugged.

With that, she suddenly plopped back down on the bed, he heard the sheets rustle as she pulled the blankets closer. Tycon returned his gaze to the window, watching snowflakes slowly drift past to the dark, cold streets below.

They were a good distance from Winter's Peak, although it was still important to remain wary of the guards that patrolled the town. With the seeds of revolution begging to grow, the guards were ever more vigilant. Always searching for an excuse to weed out the so-called traitors, more often than not, slaughtering innocent villagers in the process.

Ambre had mentioned a man by the name of Grohir, whom they were set to meet tomorrow. Tycon was incredibly interested in meeting the man and seeing what he was all about, though, he wasn't about to give him his full allegiance, not yet.

Catching his reflection in the glass, he stared right into his own eyes. Tired, with black rings circling them, like the years since leaving home had suddenly caught up with him. He almost could no longer recognize himself, so much had changed for him, for better or worse. Did he regret the decisions and mistakes that led him here? To an extent, no, though there was much he wished he could change.

"Tycon, you need to sleep" Ambre mumbled, "Get over here."

She's right. Letting my mind wander like this won't change anything.

Tycon slowly made his way to the bed and set himself down beside Ambre. He felt her warm, slender arm wrap around his cold and rigid body, she jerked her hand away for a moment then let it slowly fall over his cold flesh. Trying to clear his mind, he hugged her arm and closed his eyes as the familiar sands of sleep slowly crept upon his tired eyes.

Another overcast day huh? What a surprise.

As expected the streets were snowy and Tycon noted a few townsfolk shoveling the roads as they walked by. They paid no attention to the two and for that he was glad. He cupped his hands in his armpits as a frosty breeze swept through, making his face go numb.

Ambre, however, didn't seem to react, though it was unsurprising considering this was her homeland. She took the cold in stride and would constantly tease him for shivering all the time, he wasn't bothered by it, it was just how she was. Despite the sharp and intense cold, he didn't miss Meliora for a second, deciding never to return to the cursed place unless he absolutely had to, both Tycon and Ambre shared that sentiment. Some good did come of it though, he did meet her there and that was something he could never forget.

Suddenly there was a shout, a scream. It echoed over the small town and sent a shiver down his spine, he quickly bolted toward the sound.

"Tycon, no!" Ambre shouted.

He ignored her, the crunch of snow drowning out her curses as he ran. He couldn't help but notice the townsfolk's lack of a reaction, nobody seemed curious or even surprised. They just continued shoveling snow or walking down the streets at a brisk pace, not a care in the world. He was confused and even considered that the sound may have been all in his head. The consideration was discovered to be naught as he turned a corner and stopped, laying eyes on what had caused the scream.

The snow was stained red with blood and the body of a young man lay facedown upon it. A woman sat on her knees, sobbing and wailing as the rest of the townsfolk simply walked by without a passing glance. Then he saw a man, clad in the familiar armor motif of the guard, the thick iron plates frosted by the constant snow. Underneath the plates, the armor was lined with fur from an assortment of animals, no doubt something needed in the harsh frozen wasteland. He was pointing a longsword at the woman and shouting to her. The words being spoken, indiscernible above the frozen wind. Tycon took a step forward but was suddenly pulled back.

"Don't," Ambre whispered.

"What do you mean don't?"

"This sort of thing happens all the time."

Tycon tried to escape her grip but was pulled back again, "Let me go, we have to do something."

"We can't do anything. I can't afford to have you arrested or wanted," She paused, "We can't afford it."

"I won't stand idly by, let me go."

He shrugged her off and began approaching the guard who was still pointing his blade toward the woman.

"What the fuck is going on here?" Tycon shouted.

The guard turned his head, glaring at him with intense eyes, Tycon stopped in his tracks and placed a hand on the hilt of a dagger. The woman didn't react, instead, she kept her head low, sniffling softly.

"None of your business, elf. Fuck off," The guard spat.

"I'm making it my business."

The guard snorted and let out a wheezing laugh, "This woman has refused her son's conscription to the royal army and he attacked," He pointed to the dead boy with his sword, "Refusal is punishable by death and treason..." The guard trailed off.

He watched Tycon as if daring him to take another step, he wanted to but hesitated. He knew what Ambre had said was right, he couldn't risk being arrested and simply by approaching the guard, he had made himself known. His sense of moral justice had posed a risk to not just him but to Ambre too.

Tycon glanced over to Ambre, who shook her head, then back to the guard and the woman. He closed his eyes and sighed, letting his hand fall from the hilt of the dagger.

"You're right," He lied, "Sorry to cause trouble."

The guard smirked and returned his attention to the woman before him. The woman gasped and glared at Tycon, eyes wide with fear and red with sorrow. The look she gave him was much louder than words could ever be, he closed his eyes to avoid her gaze and turned his back to her, making his way slowly toward Ambre. As he made his way, he heard a shriek and the familiar sound of a blade cutting through flesh. He flinched at the sudden sound, clenching a fist.

He may not have been able to save the woman but at that moment, he swore that'd he'd give her justice.

Passing Ambre, she grabbed his arm to stop him, "You made the right decision. I know it was hard but the less attention the better."

He had little to say, only a sudden drive to fight.

"Let's go see Grohir."

Ambre nodded and the two continued on their way in the search for the leader of the growing rebel army. Something big was coming and Winter's Peak would change no matter how long it took them.

The cold frozen forest was dense with frigid trees, Tycon and Ambre slowly trotted through the shin-high snow in search of the rebel hideout. A snowstorm was begging to brew and the cold frosted air bashed against their exposed faces, feeling like a barrage of nails tapping on their skin. The two attempted to shield their faces from the incoming wind, trying to discern anything before them but their vision was beginning to fade with nothing but a wall of torrenting snow being blown around them. Ambre clung tightly to his arm in hopes to not lose him in the blizzard.

Tycon regretted heading into the wilderness, he hadn't expected a blizzard to suddenly brew as they made their way to the hideout. All they could do was push forward, there was no chance they'd find their way back to town in the storm.

"I think we're lost," Tycon shouted above the whistling wind.

Ambre shook her head and pointed ahead in front of the two, "We're almost there, can you see it?"

Tycon followed where she was pointing with his eyes, squinting into the endless white ahead. He searched for a few moments when he finally saw it. A faint orange glow somewhere in the distance.

"I see it, let's go."

All of a sudden, three cloaked and masked figures burst out from behind the trees, all of them wielding bows, drawn and pointing at them, ready to fire at the next move they made. Both Ambre and Tycon stopped in their tracks and raised their arms.

"We don't want any trouble," Ambre said loudly, "We're looking for Grohir."

The figure in the middle lowered their bow and took a step forward. The other two watched but kept their bows at the ready.

"Who's asking?" The figure said in a muffled deep voice.

"Princess Ambre Sparrow," She said without delay.

Tycon glanced up into the trees to see two more masked figures perched on the branches, their bows were also drawn. They reminded him of Grey with the way they were positioned.

The middle figure took another step forward, pulling their mask down and observing Ambre closely. He was a young man with a handsome face, looking around eighteen in human years. Some stubble had begun to grow on him and he did not look like a typical farm boy, more like a hunter, weary and cold. After a few moments, he dropped down into the snow on one knee and bowed. Seeing their leader, the rest of them did the same, save for the two up in the trees whose body language told him they were confused.

"My lady, forgive me." He said, his voice shaky. Whether from the cold or her presence, Tycon couldn't tell.

"You are forgiven," Ambre replied, her voice emitting a strong authority, yet, feeling clumsy at the same time.

Tycon had never heard her speak that way before, the reminder of how important she was hit him again, he never saw her as a figure but instead as a person, with flaws and all. He felt a great sense of honor that he got to know her in her most intimate moments. He could only imagine how odd it must have felt to be treated as royalty again after so much time outside of her home, her face somewhat gave that away.

The man rose to his feet and shot Tycon a glance, "Who's this?"

"Tycon Rollator," Ambre answered for him.

"I see," He simply replied, not shifting his gaze from Tycon, "If you trust this... Elf, then I suppose we can too."

"I trust him with my life."

"And who are you?" Tycon asked with a hint of distaste.

The man must have heard it within his words and lowered his brow.

"Taiskar, Tai for short."

Without another word, Tai beckoned them to follow him and the group made their way to the faint orange light. The only glow that could make him feel even a little warmer. He watched Tai as they walked, he didn't look back but he could tell the man didn't trust him, even without reason. As petty as it was, he wasn't about to pretend he trusted Tai either and he intended to keep an eye on him. Tycon felt Ambre nudge him with her elbow and she leaned into his ear.

"Best not to mention our relationship," She whispered.

"What do you mean?" He whispered back.

"You're just a hired merc to them, Y'know what I mean?"

"Yeah sure, makes sense."

He was initially confused but the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. He didn't understand the human-dominated culture and he was sure they wouldn't appreciate a random elven mercenary being all over their princess.

Best to keep it professional for now.

As they approached the orange glow, he realized that the lantern stood above a snow-covered trap door. What was below was a labyrinth completely full of lost souls willing to fight against tyranny and their leader, Grohir, would be the man to lead them to victory. With the princess by their side, there would be change but many preparations were ahead and the journey to take back Winter's Peak would be a long one. Tycon would be right by her side, he had no doubt in his mind that Balin would have been thrilled to be a part of it.

But a thought conjured itself within his mind, a sudden fear that he could not forget. If they were to be victorious, what would happen to Ambre? Would he stay with her once she reclaimed the throne? Would she continue to journey with him? The threads of doubt had been sewn and in a sudden bout of selfish thought, he realized that in the end, he may never be with her again.

He looked to her as they made their way through the dirty tunnels, on their way to meet with Grohir. She walked with such elegance, a way he had never seen before. Eyes stuck forward, not looking back, no fear in her eyes - just purpose and a goal. To no longer run and face her problems head-on, he had always encouraged her but never thought of the consequences. He loved her and didn't want to let her go but the duty that she had may let her slip through his fingers.

Forever.