Faust sat at the kitchen table in his seaside home that he and his child had once shared with his late wife Eliza. The necromancer glanced at the clock before glancing out the window overlooking the ocean. There you sat, overlooking the calm sea. The blonde man knew that you had been grieving as much as he, for just as Eliza had been his wife, the blonde woman had been your mother.

The necromancer rose from where he sat. He moved to the back door and stepped out of the house. His blue eyes caught sight of where you were sitting as his blonde hair blew in the breeze.

"Amaranthine, come inside. Its getting colder. The last thing you need is to get sick."

The shamans voice was gentle yet firm. He expected you to do as he asked.