#zanarian

Clinging to his soul was the only thing he could manage. Shattered on the ground he couldn’t breathe, couldn’t feel… there was merely his resolve.

Too much left undone, too much he wanted to feel. He couldn’t fail the Black Heart like this. Wrenching his essence back into his body his heart beat again. Coughing out more blood he convulsed giving out a weakened gurgle.  

Another moment bought, another chance for Mara to return to him. If he failed to cling, if he let go his soul would return to the nether, he might not make it back.

The idea brought a sense of worry. He had never let himself become this injured. Nothing he had done previously had ever broken him so.

The thought crept in like a serpent, twisting around the coils of anything he had...Would it really be so bad? Venom corrupting his mind his heart dropped again, and his pulse plummeted.

What was the use in struggling?

If he returned his hunger would as well. Mana gone again and sources further ruined what was their left waiting for him?

In his pondering mind a pressure came to his chest. Something was tugging on him, and in a moment of curiosity Zanarian Felsunder let go.

Hissing again as he stared through the mist at the set nose. Running his hand over the bruised eye, he had leaned in closer to get a look at the damage. The lesson was learned Baelisian was not to be trifled with. The scene still played in his thoughts.

"Oi." She jabbed her knuckle into the bruised and broken skin. "Keep yer claws off the girl. Orange curls. Freckles. F*** whoever else ye want in this pisspot world, but keep yerself off Elleynah." Her words were quiet at the end, the threat realer. "Don't touch her, or all your wantonness will be ended."

No one else had challenged him like that. No one else had dared, but here, without warning, without hesitation, she struck. Not even Kaltaia, No even Asteryn, or the rest of the realm of Demons caught him off guard like that.

The deal was simple, the threat even more so, keep his eyes and hands off her, and she’d look the other way, fail, and he’d be dead, or worse, mutilated. Pulling at the skin below his eye the swelling of pain boiled up around the wound. Bell was a rare woman, probably one of a handful that could manage it. Even more so Zanarian didn’t look forward to the idea of being on a ship with a woman eager to murder him.

And at the end of the day, why bother? It was no secret he liked pushing people, but trying to push someone into enjoying themselves to let go? Not when threatened, not when Bell offered herself to him? Waste of time, and there was other prey with less than half the peril

Bell offered a lot though, in exchange for the deal, for the threat, and the attack she gave him the most decadent night of his life. His muscles were still sore after returning to the Glave, after the bath. Everything ached, and it sent lightning down his spine thinking about it. She was a rare woman indeed. 

But there was more, a hint sweeter than any demon gave him. The scent of the of honey, and the hint of a promise to ensure he kept the deal even beyond the threat.

“Keep ya damn claws off her, and maybe, maybe, next time things get heated between us, I may invite a friend to help cool us off.”

Taking in the sheer amount of chaos and fel in one gulp is like trying to cradle an inferno. There will never be pain like that again. Your very soul is engulfed in their malice, and it seeks an outlet.

The adage that the eyes are the gateway to the soul is not wrong, this energy erupts in a torrent of fury, and in doing so, we go blind to the greater world around us. Fel seared eyes are the reminder of the pact with our inner darkness…

Through alliance, subjugation, or mutually assured destruction we hunters endure this ongoing struggle. If our resolve weakness, if our hunger grows, or in moments of extreme passion these demons may find their way through, claiming us, taking over, and in our own hatred we become the force of the Legion we seek to burn.

When my time came, and Arax-Barash was pulled from my anger there was only one option. To eat him first. The Wrathguard stood no chance and with his soul subsumed the true conflict began.

I would not allow this wretch to exist in my body, his power was mine, his strength, ferocity, rage… they belonged to me. My hatred for this creature, for this torture, for my past it overwhelmed him.

I tore the demon’s soul piece from piece. Breaking down, integrating, I became the demon I consumed. There would be no other presence in my soul, there would be no other force to keep at bay.

And in an endless ocean of my disdain I sundered the grasp of his very soul.

…. From this chaos comes my rebirth. In my glorious resurrection to Felsunder one sole truth echoed before everything else.

“Vengeance Before Annihilation.”