The sea embraces the Bera Konung with open, eager arms. With confidence he strides into the frothing, bubbling surf his glacial eyes narrow on the distant bump of land. Tinuvel. The sun has just peaked above the horizon line, washing the morning sky in vibrant oranges and intense reds. Memory tells him that the swim to Tinvuel will sap some of his energy, but he is well conditioned, strong, and ready for whatever that is to unfold on Tinuvel.

He pushes himself into the sea, letting the cool waters push him toward his destination. With each stroke, he is brought closer to the shores of the Inlet, he can feel his resolve solidify. This is the right move, for his family and himself.

He does not fear what is to come. No, he is a icy, war battered warrior. He has tried to push that part of himself away, but it keeps resurfacing. He embraces the darkness that boils beneath the surface. It is apart of him, and the more he tries to run from it... the more it reminds him that it is still there.

As the sea shallows, he feels the earth firm beneath his hooves. Muscles ripple beneath his smoky hide as he propels up the shore and glacial eyes search the Inlet. His heart thunders loud within his chest as he looks upon his birthplace, he can feel the memories pressing down on him. It is as if he can see his father, his mother, all of them just waiting for him to come home.

The Bera Konung raises his bone white crown, and lets loose a bugle from between parted lips. He summons Warsaw from deep within the Inlet... The King has some explaining to do.