It had taken him far longer than anticipated to reach the more populated region of the territory. For much of the night, he had shifted between stiffly hobbling across the dunes and through the shrubs or resting, leaning up against a tree. His leg was a bloodied mess, his scruff a scabbed, awful looking thing. His entire body ached with several bouts of bruising, though perhaps it had been his ego that had taken the most damage. He had failed, that much he could be certain of, and it had all been because of his own confidence. If he had not been so self assured, he might have expected more, might not have been so haphazardly thrown about like a spring hare. His breath still ran ragged even as the sun began to peek over the vast waters, casting a golden haze across Glorall. How strange, he had to think, that even after a night of agony and bloodshed, it still rose just the same and the land still glowed like it had the day before. Nothing had changed and yet, he knew it had.

With short, staggering strides, he moved towards his den, where his daughter Cersei's was located only a stone's throw from. He did not make a sound at first but rather took his position outside of his home, laying down slowly and basking in what remained of Caligula's scent. It had all but been completely blown away during her absence and now, it seemed almost ready to disappear completely. He could not help but close his eyes for those few moments, resting them as his lungs finally began to catch up. He even dared to mutter an apology to the ghosts that lived in the den, though he quickly rose to the sound of panicked paws. It had not taken her long to find him, her eyes stricken with terror as she stood at an estranged distance.

"Do not worry, Cersei. The pain is but an afterthought now."

He tried to grin weakly, a halfhearted attempt that he gave up on as she stumbled towards him, beginning to fuss over his wounds. At least, he supposed, she had been well trained though he could still see the whisper of a tear welling in the corner of her eyes.

"What happened?"

She demanded almost, pulling back to watch his eyes for some tell tale sign of a lie or two. Instead, he shrugged and turned away with an exasperated sigh, removing the last taste of blood from his palette. In all honesty, it was too difficult to explain how his entire life had seemingly lead to that moment of failure. No child needed to hear about how their father's mind had, at the last moment, decided to question every choice made up until that moment. Instead, he turned back and flopped onto his side with a gruff grunt, basking in the warmth of the rays that fell upon him.

"All that matters is that it has been done. What happened? What usually happens when a man grows old and weary. I am tired, though, Cersei. Please, call your siblings. Call the pack. Whoever comes, I have much to say to."

It didn't take her very long at all to respond to his request, taking several short steps away before lifting her head back to let out a long, aching howl. It spoke of urgency and concern, a tone that made Tesseract grit his teeth. He hadn't wanted to outwardly admit that he may be in such a dire state. For what it was worth, he still had his pride (as bruised as it might have been.) For now, though, he would allow her that. It was the least he could do if it stopped her from fussing so much.