It was time.

d'Artagnan would much rather kill the coward who had now signed himself to the Throat. Yet, the order given for such a thing would be highly unlikely and the stallion had no wishes to hang on to Sno's pet forever. However, there was a question of what the bastard knew and that knowledge, unfortunately, gave the desert rats another advantage. Like they needed more. He had pondered the matter over night and decided he needed help from another, one of the Basin's intelligence might know a good way to per say erase the brutes memories. Though, the Nightshade hardly knew Faelene and so when lips lifted to the morning sky he called for another. A phantom who was sparkling white in colour, the mare he had found in the Threshold and the mare who was slowly making a name for herself. As he recalled, she had antlers instead of horns and a now proven loyalty that the shade admired. When he had first brought her to the Basin, he admittedly had not thought much of her meek presence. Yet, the femme had performed in ways he could not of envisioned that day. Clever girl.

With urgency and brusque tones, d'Artagnan called to the white mare who he thought might be able to help him. "Arah!" Came her name before he ushered to his hell dog and walked over to where Valentine was, his face like stone and his eyes hard as his mane whipped around him in the cold wind. His mind was already ticking, so far as he knew Arah knew nothing of the Plague and if she did have some way to fix this situation then d'Artagnan's reasons would have to be solid.

The Mender walked up to the pale stallion, noticing the angry wounds on his body and the traitors weary look. It seemed now was the time to repay his debt to the Earth God. For everyone he poisoned he must also heal. What a waste of time. Yet, d'Artagnan had no wish to be apart of another God's wrath and with great effort, ignoring the part of him that wanted to snap lover boys neck, he seeped his magic into his prisoners body. Purging disease and knitting flesh, it was almost harmonic the way Lord Time's magic gently flowed out of him and erased past events from the physical body. Mending it to near perfect condition and powered by the lifeforce of d'Artagnan himself. Casting his magic throughout the pale body before him as he lastly took the henbane away and knitted the final parts of flesh back together.

Wrinkling his nose, the shade lifted his magic from Valentine's body and breathed out a huge sigh of weariness. Aramis watched on, sat on his haunches next to his bonded, watching the traitor through stern aurous pools and a faint growl under his breath. Yes, today was the day Valentine could go free, but not until his meddling was curbed. "Stand up worthless rat, we have something to take care of."