[While Fiddleford is alone one night, a soothing whisper will caress his ear.]
You have done well, my child. You sought to return what is rightfully mine.
[Fog swirls around Fiddleford in thin wisps, but there is no coldness, only the softness of a hand that touches his cheek.]
And I shall give you what is rightfully yours.
[With the caress of the fog hand upon Fiddleford's cheek, Fiddleford will find himself imbued with new power and a new form. The fog then disappears, leaving Fiddleford with his reward.]
no subject
You have done well, my child. You sought to return what is rightfully mine.
[Fog swirls around Fiddleford in thin wisps, but there is no coldness, only the softness of a hand that touches his cheek.]
And I shall give you what is rightfully yours.
[With the caress of the fog hand upon Fiddleford's cheek, Fiddleford will find himself imbued with new power and a new form. The fog then disappears, leaving Fiddleford with his reward.]