EREBOS

Soft and eerie, drumming with the drops, a haunting set of words nestled along his brain, scorched and sizzled, whispered and drew breath from condemnation:
 
He took her from me…
 
The phrase echoed, churned, beating, beating, beating a molten, vicious crescendo against his mind, melting and molding the wrath, the rage, stirred between his heart and soul. This beast had made Enna suffer. This beast had made her hurt. The notions to obliterate him in return were absolute, were vibrant, were intoxicating, curling and fanning like an alluring, beguiling siren. It was an opportunity to savor, to relish, impairing an enemy, lacerating flesh from bone – and he understood why so many clung to violence.
 
It was a way to devour, destroy, and wreak havoc upon something, someone, who deserved it.
 
The boy had made a promise, and he intended to keep it.
 
He blinked against the pouring rain as they began their treacherous waltz, pushing his daggers along the sodden ground, advancing through the muck and mire, studying, examining, the monster as best he could. He was massive, much larger than himself, some enormous piece of chromed structure, but there had to be weaknesses (speed? Agility?) he could expose. Would he tire easily? Would he fall to pieces on damp, soggy turf?
 
Before he could think of munitions to use, before he could brandish terror and deceit, destruction and demolition, the giant came at him, left to left, crashing and colliding with his shoulder. The mass, the bulk, of the hulking man nearly sent the prince sprawling, eyes widened and alarmed, watching as the dank grass appeared to be getting closer and closer. His legs buckled, slipped along the surface, and his shoulder erupted with a maelstrom of pain and torment. It took every ounce of his will, effort, and determination to remain upright, knocked and notched off-balance, off-kilter. It’d be more than a bruise, but a brutal, beastly reminder of mistakes, errors, and flaws.
 
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. This wasn’t what he’d yearned, craved, and desired.
 
A deep breath pulsed from his mouth, flew into the fog, as reality began to itch and crawl along his mind. Perhaps I’ve made a mistake.
 
What if he didn’t have enough? What if he’d chased down a fiend more destructive, more chaotic, more powerful than him? What if he’d already led himself to ruin, and all he had to do was await the slaughter? What if this was just like he and Ashamin all over again, a renewed cycle of stupidity, arrogance, and vengeance?
 
He listened to the rain pounding against his skull, and her words stirred, fanned, ignited on him again, like a dream, like a nightmare, awakening and flaring his senses:
 
He stole her because I believed…
 
Erebos could almost imagine her there, conjured amidst the fog, doom, and gloom, smirking or shaking her head because she knew he was foolish and stupid, eager to compose their next outlet of mischief or mayhem instead of watching him fall.
 
But when he looked again, to his left, there she appeared to be, a satiny, soft image of Enna, a mirage, a cascading whirlwind of battle and dulcet whims – he blinked multiple times, and there she remained, smiling, snickering.
 
Orsino? He called along their connection, and the mare’s grin seemed to match his fox’s, and he knew, he understood, he could feel the reasons, the perseverance, flickering, fueling, and flowing through his blood again – the damned kitsune had reached into his heart and plucked out the very thing he needed. Together they would march down their pebbled road to Hell.
 
Her image followed his plans, perhaps the only time she’d ever oblige his requests (he almost laughed), turning and twisting through the rain and mist. Erebos hoped she’d manage to trigger the chromed skeleton somehow (annoy, irk, irritate, distract, deter), long enough for him to return his rage.
 
While she floated, like a ghost, like a wraith, like a phantom, attempting to fixate on Misael’s right, all silk and air, the boy leaned towards the left, trying to avoid the incriminating pain sparking over his shoulder (but then he clenched his jaw, seized the silent scream barbing his throat), intending to aim his sword down the beast’s left side.
 
He’d make his mark on the world, one way or another.

[1/3. 721 words.
* Erebos is struck by Misael on his left shoulder. The attack is very painful, and almost sends him sprawling to his knees. Due to Misael’s bulk, it knocks Erebos off-balance and towards the right.
* Orsino conjures a likeness of Enna using his magic.
* Erebos utilizes this opportunity to send the image of Enna towards Misael’s right, while he goes to the left, intending to use his horn to cut along Misael’s left side.]