Funny that though it is the mare who has been blinded, it is Knox who cannot see.

In the dark that should be his home, the hunter has no idea what is coming. He is too emboldened by the purchase he makes on her flesh, too overwhelmed by that rush of pride. Is it his own or another's? Perhaps it is his father, for the first time witnessing his son sparring as a stallion. Perhaps it is Cem, silently smiling with tactical pleasure as Knox's teeth manage to take hold even as the stranger tries to peel away. Or perhaps it is Dovev, admiring hungrily as he watches his descendant rip the mare's flesh away in a bloody mess.

The many masks Knox has worn, the many minds he has let rule himself... all play the game, now. It is Huric that flings back Knox's head, and Zsoka's gleeful neigh that strikes haunting chords in the night. It is Dovev's bloodlust that licks the red from Knox's lips before letting them close over long-stained teeth. All of them ghosts but all of them so present, so enchanting, so alive.

Knox does not have the good sense to do as his enemy has tried to and move away. Too enthralled is he by the idea of striking again that he continues to press on, his legs pumping to chase after what is now just a memory of her position and sending him in useless, tight circles. With his size and condition he tires quickly and moves slowly, but with so little experience in the art of war it doesn't occur to the hunter that he should be still. His rump burns, a persistent and festering mess that seems to worsen the more he moves. Knox is too rash to stop and think if there is a connection. All he knows is the blooming bruise and the fire of where her weapon struck.

Before Knox can find her, before he can even try and see if he is close enough to strike, something red bursts onto the scene. The creature is a bold and glittering creation, coming from nowhere and filling Knox with rage. Even in the dark the descendant recognizes the scream of a dragon. Instinct turns his face away, and Knox bares only his right to the reptile but does not stop moving forward. How dare this stranger use a companion against him? Doesn't she know? The dark stallion knows how much it hurts, so why doesn't everyone else?

He wants to scream, to tell this stranger how much pain she causes him, but he is not quick enough to both move and form the words. Already as he tries to rush forth he feels exhaustion tugging on him, and the bite-mark left by her whip nagging. Besides, isn't her intention likely to hurt, even if not like this? So distracted is the hunter by these pointless and circuitous ruminations that he does not have the good sense to stop when confronted by the crimson soul the mare has summoned from seemingly nowhere. When the beast breathes fire, Knox is thrust too far forward by his inertia to avoid the flames.

The scream that comes next is unearthly. Heat brands the hunter, destroying features that he has for so long kept beautiful. Knox, so long spared from such physical pain, cannot find words for the hurt. It is unlike the breaking of his heart, but sharper in a way that it makes him feel where death makes him numb. The flames lick at his face, clawing the right side that he so foolishly bore to the creature, and he realizes with panic that the longer there is pain from the fire, the faster his sight begins to fade on his right.

How does it feel? a voice whispers, sounding satisfied as if it has hoped for so long that Knox would feel this pain.

"NO!" he cries as he shakes his head wildly, trying to fan the flames. It is with luck that he catches the glimmer of green, and out of a panicked adrenaline rush that he manages to keep moving. Desperate and ashamed, distracted by new hurt and haunted by the old, he throws himself to his right (what he remembers as her left) again, avoiding the second bout of flames, and hopes he can at the same time ram the mare with his side and press his blazing features against her. The flames still eat away at him, and he realizes with urgency that the smell of the rotting corpse has been overtaken by something far worse: the hideous burning of his flesh, and the blackening decay of his right eye. Knox knows nothing but the fire, can see nothing through the encroaching blackness of defeat.

""