Icarus found himself in one of the very boats he had been warned to stay away from, slowly drifting toward the sea. He had died previously, but perhaps his connection to the Void and the fact he separated himself so fully from sin and evil kept his eternal soul safe at that time. With his master’s mask on once more, he intended to see someone that he had not spoken with in years. Indeed, this was a reunion of sorts; a meeting predestined so he could bear witness just how far a friend had fallen.

All the reading materials and advisement he found concerning the journey all prepared him for this moment. Ahead, he would face a distortion in the waters, an instantaneous feeling of plummeting before casually progressing through the entry into Dalanesca’s domain. By expecting it, he prepared himself mentally for it, as well as the waves of emotion that would follow. Suffice to say, he could certainly feel the effects of the Goddess of Death’s domain, but he knew it to be false. They were the means of her greeting those that would be here for eternity.

A short while into the journey, he crossed the event horizon of her domain and the sudden shock only caused a quick spike in his adrenaline until he took a deep breath and began his meditation, using mental fortification magic to assist him. Unlike the rumors, the waves of grief hit him all at once, as though it were informing him that the domain’s master knew he was coming and remembered him after years apart. He knew exactly how he had failed. A scant few years ago, Icarus helped Dalanesca along the path away from being an assassin and when he could have been there to share her grief, he did not come to his ally’s aid, dead, separated in body and soul with one portion in the Void and the other devouring the undead.

It was a failure Icarus knew to be his own and it took all the rationality the past few years of his experience held to remain somewhat calm. Four years. Four years he had remained in seclusion, mustering all he could to maintain his vigil to ensure he was prepared, perhaps for this very moment. 

The gates of Dalanesca’s domain appeared at the end of these waves of grief, welcoming to his destination where he would be brought to one of the layers of her infernal realm. As they opened, he saw nothing but darkness, a portion of the soul stream stretching along one side. The boat crept along, coming to a stop at a makeshift dock. 

Before him, in the distance, was a pale child, the one he had heard of known as the Pale Death. In his studies, he came to understand the guardian of this layer was crafted in the likeness of what Dalanesca believed her child would look like, had she been born. Instead, the child was not and Dalanesca blamed Angela for not arriving in time to help her. This guardian and the circles of her realm were as much a punishment for herself as it was for the souls trapped here. The punishment for her was a pain of loss no parent should ever have to face and one Icarus too had known.

He didn’t know what sort of trial this visage of a child of Death would entail, but he sincerely hoped it wasn’t combat. Having to best a guardian of a goddess was not exactly fair to him.