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The darkness is all-consuming, and without the guiding light of Cynder's flame-tail, the beast would likely be wandering down here for the rest of his days.
He had followed an innocent-looking tunnel, but now found himself in a massive cavern as black as the hairs on his pelt. The shadows are all-consuming, and even Tyradon - warmaster and fearless dark knight that he is - feels a frisson of unease. A man could get lost down here and wander for eternity without ever seeing another equine face, and he does not doubt that many have taken their last breath in these eerie shadows. He is profoundly grateful for Cynder's tail and for the queer ever-burning flame that adorns it; it casts a large circle of light around him, allowing him to see his path. The levianthan wanders deeper and deeper, keen to discover if this seemingly endless dark room has a treasure hidden on the other side, anything to lure unknowing animals into the place like a venus flytrap. He finds nothing, only the far wall of the gigantic cave - looking up, the roof is so high it is lost in shadows. Cynder flies up to it, and her tail illuminates the arches that hold the entire structure up. An involuntary shudder spikes down the warrior's spine at the notion of the roof caving in on him, crushing the life out of him and ensuring his bones lay down here for evermore. "Come, Cynder," he says aloud - he wants to hear the sound of his own voice bouncing back at him, his own domineering vocals ringing off the distant cave walls. The beast turns and prepares to head out of the black abyss, his green war-dragon wheeling around in front of him to guide his way. |
[ we are made of greed ]
[ the regime ]
