Pay. Someone must pay.

The world is twisted. It’s fallacious, barbaric and spiteful. Death has no master to chain it, no heart to instil doubt and no line to overstep. It came and went, leaving a path of broken hearts and tears until finally only scattered memory remained. Death was a process, not a moment and it lingered in the fibre of beings until they too met life’s merciless partner. What happened after that was only written in hypothesis and story, no one really knew and yet some willingly chose to find out. Take the leap to the other side voluntarily so to say. It was a notion d’Artagnan the Nightshade, Time Mender of the Aurora Basin and Plague Doctor to the superior band of unicorns, had already considered. After all, what was left of life when your soul mate had left you? The earth suddenly seemed much quieter, much less interesting and with it, around every corner, was a gut punching memory. The shade had faced the death of loved ones before, but never the death of one so close. His Nurse who had captured and tamed the monstrous devil that stalked his being, was lost to the world he lived in and in her absence she left a monster inside his heart.

He was marching darkly across the floating island with the intent on heading towards the camp of the Aurora Basin and beside him was Aramis, who stalked with a faint glow pulsing from his red markings. Part of the Doctor wondered why he didn’t just travel home to the bleakness of winter that had settled over the mountains, but he knew he couldn’t face it. He couldn’t walk back there without her, yet. His mind was still a shambles of anger and sorrow that thundered through his every stomping step as an eruption brewed precariously behind his lunatic eyes. There was also the point that he needed answers to questions, he needed revenge for the pain in his chest and only a pool of blood at his feet would suffice. This death would be long, harsh and painful.

Like an aftershock of an earthquake, anger took hold of his limbs and, with quite some force; he reared and slammed two front feet into an innocent tree. His ears laced back onto his neck as bits of wood fell to the floor from where he’d rammed in his hooves. It did nothing to sate his raging feelings. Across his body was a series of mini scratches, tiny wounds from previous skirmishes with tree and rock alike, the Nightshade had a full tank of anger and no flesh to rend from bone.

With frustration in his gaze, he cast his head skywards and out his lips bellowed an irate shout to anyone or no one. His Nurse was dead. Someone must pay.