He had been summoned, as they all had been summoned, to this place where the ocean wind tore mercilessly through their pelts and the scent of blood hung, a heavy demon, over the land. Giants teeth jutted up from a cold and harsh earth, stones so large and misshapen that some almost appeared to be grotesque luperci themselves - gnarled and bent, sharp and cold and dead.
Unlike the others, the dark man was king of this land. He owned it, as it owned him, and its very pulse beat within his wicked and reptilian heart. This land was his cold blood, his power, the very source of his thorny crown - He had known as much since the moment that he and Eris had come here, so many moons ago.
But, for the first time, Sirius recognized that he held no power in this small section of his territory. For this twisted, rocky place belonged to the spirits - It was Eris', and she had claimed it without a voice. The flat stone on which the body of the stranger, the young wolf condemned to death by his Auxiliary's gentle hands, was Eris' thing; An extension of her body. He did not doubt that she felt this place as he did; Powerful. So powerful.
Thus, for once, he remained in the background - A hidden shadow, a dark form that rustled like the wings of ravens. If the other pack members saw him, his dark form still and brooding from the boulders that surrounded them, they made no motion to show it. Even if they had, Sirius would not have cared. He had eyes for her, only - The Eternity woman, her generous form a dark and sumptuous ebony between the folds of her ivory cloak. He had hunted those foxes for her - watched the light fade from their eyes as he had taken care to snap their necks, so as not to sully their lovely pelts. So, too, had he killed the bear through whose eyesockets her otherworldly eyes looked - Perhaps through its skull she could see, like windows, to a world beyond this one.
It was for this reason that Sirius evoked none of his power here; For the spirits, or whatever deep and terrible and wonderful magic she harnessed, were not his to command. They never would be. Deep within, locked beneath the layers of his arrogance and pride, and his dangerous intellect - Deep down, where the Hunter strained against his chains, the beast that howled to be free from such favored civility - was the little truth; That he feared this kind of power. Sirius believed in no god, in the sacred word of no deity. He was a man made of flesh and blood, a creature that lived by his own laws, and sometimes not even these. But nor did he dare disbelieve, for Eris held power here, and when she spoke her voice resonated with something otherworldly, something more wicked than even his mind could comprehend.
He remained only long enough for that - To hear her speak. And her voice filled him with such trepidation that he could linger no longer, and faded like a wraith between the boulders and pillars of stone. Be gone from here, Thistle King, hissed the wind on the nape of his neck. This is a sacred place, a place where your power holds no sway.
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