Antlers . . . The demon had damned antlers! It was a realization that Lucian stumbled across upon his arrival back to Wudubearo. The silence, followed by the deafening explosion, the blinding lights . . . Somewhere along the lines of this all, a cruel joke had been pulled on the obsidian devil during his journey to Fur Chilis. He had lost consciousness. For how long, he did not know. However, when he finally awoke, a migraine had settled into his thick skull, the sharp pain triggering violent heaves from the massive beast as what was left of the little remains in his stomach were coughed up. The stabbing pain was so vicious that it even claimed his eyesight, making Lucian’s travel home much longer and demanding as his vision wavered pathetically in and out. He stumbled on roots and limbs, any debris in his path.

The onyx devil could not comprehend why he’d felt so ill and drained. Not until he reached Milo’s kingdom some days later. It was then that Lucian finally took the time to survey his skull, his large cranium dipping towards one of the many puddles that inhabited the land. His reflection shocked him. No wonder his head hurt! Right before his auds, miniscule nubs had begun to sprout. The demon was left to assume only one thing; these growths must be the result of the magic once again. Already had it claimed the land . . . but now, it appeared that it was claiming vargs . . . ? A prior acquaintance at the ocean held no answers for Lucian’s inquiries simply concerning Blossom’s modifications. But now he was exposed to an entirely new set of questions. If magic was the culprit of his transformation, then . . . Why him? Why now? It was questions that no varg could truly provide him a response for - save for his queen, Milo, perhaps. But the tiny she-beast was nowhere in sight, possibly on an expedition of her own.

The cloaked devil remained in Wudubearo for a number of days, resting and readying himself for the next journey ahead of him. He was to travel to Malignant Felicity and meet with their queen, Motionless, about the possibility of a future alliance, as well as to learn about her and how she ran things. Determined to prove his worth to Milo, he set out early one morning, when finally the ache that had set so deeply within his skull began to dull and die out.

As he maneuvered away from Wudubearo and it’s thick forestry, Lucian began to find himself emerging into a damp terrain with fallen trees and a land consumed in moss. In the days following, he’d find himself having to step cautiously to avoid dangerous spots of water filled with thick muck. The sunlight grew muffled, soft streaks of light eventually growing to be nothing other than pure darkness that shrouded him in this foreign land. He could not pick up the snow queen’s perfume; or any scent, for that matter. He’d have no way of knowing that the ghost queen had already fled her kingdom. Lucian’s colossal frame stopped a significant feet away, not wanting to trespass across the ghost of a border that was so difficult to detect within this strange terrain. At last, his heavy skull is thrown back, adorned with it’s developing points, and his thick vocals call for the Queen, informing her members and herself that he’d arrived. The obsidian beast surveys his surroundings, auds and spheres of rich crimson alert and aware as he awaits their arrival.