"Halt, stranger," a feminine voice calls from ahead. "Be warned. For the path upon which you tread leads to a land where none return from." The advice belongs to a lupa, of onyx pelt. Her oculi are penetrating, and their piercing blue gaze lies currently upon none other. Svelte vix does not even stir when another appears from behind her, let alone acknowledge him. A slightly more muscular figure steps out of the shadows, oids mirroring the cerulean ones of the female. Brute's grey fur shines silver in the dim moonlight, causing him to seem like divinity.

"She speaks the truth." He speaks in a deep bass, reduced to a barely audible whisper. "If you choose, you may follow us into the realm of which we speak. Or-" he stops abruptly at the sound of thunder, pausing to let it die down. "Or," he continues, "you may stay here in this wasteland forever."

"But remember," the femme intervenes, "once you set foot upon the Kingdom Naclose, you swear your loyalties to it. If it falls, so do you. Should you choose to accept this fate, come now." Fatale turns around, and continues down the path. The bruje' accompanies her down the road to their chosen future. The only question now is, does it also lead to yours?