Sigurðr had returned. The news had come as quite the shock to Aegir. Though he thought of his father often, he had not heard of him in quite some time. When the herd had dissipated from the Harbor, things had been different for each of those that he had counted as family. Eydís became cold and withdrawn. She no longer danced down the beach with him. Draugr, who had been a playmate when he was little, had become as steel-faced as his mother. Hillevi had done what she could to protect the herd in the hopes that his sire would return, but eventually even the monochrome warrior disappeared into the sea. Aegir had lingered as long as he could before finally setting off for the Crossing.

It was a little painful to return to Atlantis and be so close to his first home. He'd considered visiting the Harbor first, but he wasn't sure how the current inhabitants would like that. He'd never joined a herd and wasn't entirely sure about how they even worked. He'd still been a child when he'd left the Harbor. Eydís hadn't done much mothering or teaching him once he'd caught up with her. She had a hard time looking at him. As a child it had hurt, and it still hurt; but he at least understood a little bit. Sigurðr had been everything to Aegir. His father was the strongest, the coolest, the most incredible. And then he was gone.

Truthfully, Aegir didn't know why he was here. He had no idea what he hoped to accomplish by coming here. He wanted to see his father, that much was true. Water rolled down his scarred sides as he dragged himself out of the rough waters onto the shore of Paradise. The churned sand and bits of blood across the ground made it a bit more real as Aegir stopped to stare at the place where his father had fought. His expression tightened and his ears flattened, he couldn't help but wonder why now. With a shake of his head, Aegir turned his gaze upon the whole of the territory. He let out a call for his father, his voice much deeper since the last time he'd have heard him.