It had been a long year for Jaroth. A very long year. Since their last battle, Licia had slipped further and further into her own world, her own mind. He had done everything he could for her, but it hadn't been enough. None of his own spell books held the key to lifting the spell cast on her by that cursed mirror. Again, Jaroth mentally kicked himself for allowing it to have happened.

To her, their link was gone, severed, from what he could tell when she 'witnessed' his death. Atleast, that was what he assumed it was. She had screamed and cried, holding onto one of their dead companions and calling Jaroth's name over and over. All he could do was drag her from that ruin and hope to find an answer. So, here he was, in his study at their family estate, having read through another tome that gave him no hope. He rose from his chair and flung the book at the wall next to the window. That's when he saw her, walking into the woods that skirted the main house. Her long black hair, loose down her back and her armor and swords glinting in the sunlight. "Not again," he muttered as he rushed from the room to chase her down. He didn't know where she was trying to go and when he caught her, she would only give him riddle like answers to his questions. His only relief was that she had not tried to harm herself, but he did note, she always dressed as if it were that journey. Even with the cold of winter still in the air, she would have no warm cloak. If he did not find her soon, she could freeze to death. He snatched his cloak from chair near the study door and raced out into the snow.