The forest is silent, and within it, the dusk-hued wraith is reduced to nothing more than a lonely ghost, an eternal wanderer of the landscape. With each motion that Scion makes as he stalks aimlessly across it, the hushed wood becomes, if possible, quieter, until even his gentle breaths seem harsh. He stills for a long moment, standing amongst the ancient, smoke blackened trees that make up the old section of Bright Moon, and when he moves again his footfalls are stealthy. Each towering ebony tree makes up an individual pillar of the sacred shrine that seems to have been formed here. As the resurrecting sun rises inexorably, weak beams of silver light are cast about the already eerie wood, serving to define the deep shadows add yet another layer of mystique.

Everything about the copse that Scion has found himself in is so surreal and spiritual that his usual thoughts are no longer enough. His monotonous inner mantra of sleep-eat-patrol-repeat is no longer enough. The rest of Bright Moon embodies warmth and comfort, but this place remembers the tragedy that the entire land underwent. These trees remember. The muscular lupine does not know why, but this forest effects him. In the past weeks, he has not allowed himself to forget what he has done, but at the same time he has moved the focus onto himself. As vilifying and punishing this focus may be, it is not enough. The thought scares him, and the tranquil forest suddenly seems threatening in its sheer wisdom. He supposes it is a sign of a slowly cracking psyche, but he can't stand to be in this ancient, all-knowing, judging place any longer.

He turns tail and steals away, careful to maintain the silence. He is glad when he breaks into a newer section of forest, where there is bird song and a far less contemplative air. Scion looks toward the ever-lightening sky and decides that it is time to run through his usual daily routine once more.

He has only gone through a very partial circuit of the grand territory when an authoritative howl brings him to a halt. The call is slightly faint due to his far from close to proximity to it, but the omega can easily recognize the tone of Summer, one of Darcia's highest ranked wolves and a wolf that the servile had met twice now – once on the borders and once more informally, when the lupine had encountered him during his training. The news of Darcia's departure had not yet reached Scion, but nevertheless he answers the call to a meeting as promptly as he would if it had been the jet cloaked king summoning. Lithely, he turned toward the inside of the lands, weaving through the foliage until he came upon a well trodden wolf-trail that lead to the meeting place.

It takes him more than a few minutes to reach the centre. He worries momentarily over that, hoping that he will not be punished too severely for his tardiness, but proceeds seamlessly nevertheless. He can detect the presence of several wolves within the clearing – Summer, obviously, as well as an unknown female and a male whose scent seemed familiar, although they had never met – from a great distance. Once he gets closer his alert auditives can detect the muted voices of those mentioned.

His posture is, as usual, submissive, yet not pathetic as he approaches, his face schooled into emotionlessness. However, when slim body breaks through the foliage, a bit of his concerned bewilderment leaks through the mask before it can once more be locked away. Where the alpha should be, there is Summer, standing atop the leader's rock with a cool but resigned confidence. Scion wonders if there had been a coup of some sort, and, as an afterthought, if this is a normal occurrence in this place. His poison green eyes dart from side to side, taking in the other wolves before he stills, standing silently in the background of the meeting with a slight tension to his frame.