The jungle had changed him. Silky petal skin hardened with rough bark, and pale colors darkened with stress unimaginable. Throughout his
entire journey into the jungle, deeper and deeper into the Heart of Maguuma, there had been but one frantic thing in his ever-whirling thoughts: To find his Marshal. It was what drove him, far beyond any limits his mind and body might have had. The Pact could burn for all he cared at that moment, so long as his Marshal was safe, so long as there were not words left unspoken between them. And there were many words unspoken between them. It couldn't end like this. But it did, leaving both of the Marshal's swords -- Caladbolg and the Commander alike -- irreparably broken.

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