All my life I’ve been searching for something

He wondered what she meant in her second statement, brushing off the aside comments on their Gods and their might, their quest for being known - attention riveted on the slant of unsteady tides. He’d been born after the first significant war, but had heard the tales enough from the legions who’d roamed there before him – refugees of the Edge, scorned, left to fend for themselves amidst the Steppe, scrappy, persevering, and vengeful, taking and ensnaring when and where they could, trying to prove to the world that they still existed, that they still remained, brought into the empire of the auroras and pines, the glaciers and mountains, because of their defiance, because of their sedition. But there’d been other tales too, of friends turned to monsters, of empires clashing, of brutality striking again and again, when war brewed then grew absolutely infernal, and he did have to ponder if that was when all the world had been more than a stage, had rotated on its axis, had fumbled and ignited in the chaos. Or perhaps she didn’t mean their invading tendencies at all, their blinding oaths towards contempt and rage, and only signified how they came together in the midst of bedlam and anarchy – like when Kaos had snagged, tricked, and exploited them all. What was to become of them thereafter was a mystery, but they’d all chiseled and sculpted away, repairing defenses, mending unknown ties, knotting and embroiling back into politics, into trades. "I guess we'll just have to see," the prince winked, gave a subtle, soft laugh. There’d been a time, not long ago, when a traveling member of some other realm wouldn’t have dared to set foot in this icy field – so he was forced to concede with a nod, measuring the matter of the subject at hand with steady, stalwart silence.
 
But then there was a flurry of movement as they came upon the hot springs, silent commands and opuses stroked by unseen bonds, and he simply watched, eyes following the lines of the dragon and its helmet as it was set ablaze. An inquiry shifted behind his teeth and tongue (why was amongst the words, too curious, too intrigued), but maintained a sort of quiet awe, waiting for something else to take place. Isopia explained, briefly, as if everything was easily understood by her phrases, and though he comprehended very little about the nature of the sojourn, the value of the crusade, he’d taken odysseys and adventures before – could fathom and interpret a God’s strange, bewildering orders. “Is there anything else you need?” He asked, ensuring she was content and satisfied, granted the necessary outcome for her journey. 

(something never comes)

erebos

never leads to nothing—nothing satisfies

but I’m getting close