The city was lit wis the glow of a setting sun, a firey tinge to everything. People were finishing up their days work and heading home, and the rowdy types were heading to the various bars and taverns scattered thoughout the city. It was the ussual end to a ussual day for most. They failed to notice the black figure perched some four stories above them, red eyes glittering down as the figure absurved the late comings and goings.

Lynthaer crouched on a ledge, watching almly as the sun set on Taras. It had been a while since he had been here. He had lost himself from Imythess for a time, and had just made it to the city in the earlier hours of dusk. He was a little hungery from traveling, but decided to wait until full darkness had settled. No need to cause any excitment on his return. Not until people were too drunk to realize that they were actually up against. No9, at the moment he would lay low...at a significant height above the street.

Rising from his crouch, Lynthaer began to stalk along the outer edge of the building. His eyes still strayed to the people in the streets, but at the moment, he was not interested. His mind was heavy with what he had left behind. His newly formed guild, of which he had all but abandoned. Gregory, his half brother with which he had a fewd with. Though he had heard that now Gregory was the God of light. Lynthaer had lost that battle. And Aether, who would most likely be furious with him leaving for so long.

Lynthaer blinked and looked at the horizon. A smile rose behind his mask. "Three...two...one..." At one, the sun finally dipped below the earth, and lynthaer reached up to his mask, pulling the hardened leather from his face. He was finally home.