War had finally arrived. To some..a curse. To others, a chance. A chance to reclaim the lives of the dark fae which were stolen. A chance for revenge. A chance for life. Borra readied the fae prepared to fight. After Conall's death...their leader...he took command. And war was the only option against Queen Ingrith. The fae covered their faces in paint and dressed in preparation for the bloody fight to come. Many stretched their feathered wings and had weapons made. "I wish this fight had come sooner." Borra walked up beside you. You were flexing your wings and mixing some paint. "Don't we all..." You replied. He made a weak half smile and placed a hand on your shoulder, all of your attention moving to him with that touch... He met your gaze. An unspoken...tension hung in the air. "Your my second {{user}}." He said softly. "I can trust you. Can't I?"