The beast was painted in his blood, a mess of a man wondering the isles of Helovia like some lost madden soul. He could've gone home, sought healing there, could've gone to the edge to see his child, his Anzaine. But instead the wreck of a stallion had gone fucking north. Was it Enna or Rexanna he sought? No it couldn't be either, he was just losing his mind as the blood dripped and dripped. He had blindly thrown himself into a spar after the last time he visited these mountains, his chest still crusted with the dried blood of those antlers that had defined her resistance. Not only Enna's antlers scared him now, for the trail of deep gashes from his neck to his shoulder had too joined the antlered assaults. He could barely move his neck, the pain of shifting a single cord of muscle searing and excruciating. His legs moved with great labor, each golden dagger falling into the earth with a tired, heavy force. At the very least, his blood warmed him in the frigid air of the north.

His steps did not speak a tale of confidence or power, his stiff and sore body carrying him to wherever the hell he was going. He had beat the man, Grimalkin, but there wasn't any real happiness he gained from proving the strength he already knew he could tap into. Miseal is a powerful man, but he is not without the burdens that haunt all. He had matured, he was learning, growing, and becoming the man he had always wanted, but there was something missing. It wasn't family, he had that too, had a woman who loved him, had a child that did too, but for some reason his unfinished business haunted him. Yes that was why he dragged his bloody corpse to the North, he couldn't go home, not yet. He still was not sure as to why his mind had drug him here, but the north was some sort of addiction that housed broken souls, and it appeared Miseal had checked in for treatment, whatever the hell that meant.

His body looked dull against the frostfall colors, his blues did not glow, his stripes did not glitter in their translucent glory, he had paled as the life quite literally leaked from him. The only thing that could not be taken from him, was the molten fire the burned within his golden mirrors. He looked around, his vision slightly becoming spotty as something, someone appeared to him. Miseal's brow rose as he saw a mare, midnight blue in color, her horns looked quite like his own, tall, curved, a dangerously defensive crown. She held his stripes too, he sought to find words, but only a few stumbled ones muttered out, "Mother? Is that you?"

Had death found him? Or was this some wicked paradise he had stumbled upon? He shook his head with such a force that the pain of his actions dropped him to his knees, the beast lain broken in the bed of his hallucinations.



@Enna

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