#seraph.

@ufemew-wexub

Lunarre had never felt such erratic malevolence before. Of course, he had not lived as a seraph for little more than three years, but he had encountered enough of the corrupting matter to know just how different this feeling was. 

The malevolence was maddeningly hard to pin down. It was not a steady flow of intensity; it fluctuated, rising suffocatingly high only to drop suddenly as if smothered. There was little doubt in Lunarre’s mind that he was dealing with someone - or something - clinging onto sanity with everything they had. 

The struggle was so palpable that it made the act of walking feel like wading through mud. As Lunarre gazed up at the black ragged peaks of Rayfalke Spiritcrest, he wondered if he had finally bitten off more than he could chew.