Isabelle could hear Davon defending her off in the distance. "Stay-stay away from her! I am your enemy!!" he cried out. She clutched at her heart. He'd been wounded so horribly, yet he still had the strength of spirit within him to raise his knife to the enemy. She raised her head and offered a silent prayer to the heavens on his behalf.

Her prayer cut short when she heard a familiar voice, uttering a familiar question she'd heard so long ago: "Now, what's a saint like you doing out in a place like this?"

"Walker?..." she whispered, "Walker? Is- is that you?" She stumbled and caught herself on her cane. "Are you- are you really alive? Oh my- oh my gods. Oh Walker!" Tears welled up in her eyes, and she would have rushed into his arms right then and there had not she heard a fight break out in front of him. It took her a moment, but she realized Davon had drawn a weapon on Walker. Her lips pursed and her brow furrowed.

From that moment on, Davon was nothing to her.

When at last the fight concluded, Davon was on his knees weeping, with her name on his lips. "I- I am sorry, Isabele...h-"

Isabelle put on her Kindest Face and knelt down beside him. "There there, worry not, friend. All is forgiven," she replied, her intonation calm and soothing. "What matters is that you fought in the end, right? You fought, you struggled, and you are still alive."

She touched his withered limbs and whispered a prayer for him. "O gods in heaven, restore thee this day Davon's limbs to their former state prior to the Withering, to their condition three days prior. I offer up unto thee a portion of my blood in sacrifice." Then under her breath, so quietly even one sitting next to her could not hear, she added: "And weaken the tendons in his thumbs so he shall never again wield a weapon against my love."

"Amen."

She felt the telltale tingling of magic surge in her veins as it drew power from her blood. Isabelle felt up Davon's arm and leg to ensure the spell worked, along with a subtle exploration of his thumb, before rising to her feet to find her beloved. As she made to approach him, she remembered that his was not the only voice she'd heard. There was another, a woman's voice, and a pretty one at that. From the way they spoke, he was familiar with her. A twinge of jealousy touched her, but she pushed it aside for the moment - she had more important things to attend to, like hugging Walker. She tried to pace herself at first, not wanting to look more needy for him than she was, but her methodical pace evolved into a full-on run until she collapsed into Walker's arms.

The comforting warmth of his body coaxed a hitched sob from her throat. She pressed her face into his broad chest and nuzzled into it.

Isabelle was home again at last.