ORIGIN

Darkness. It cloaked him like a blanket, cold and heavy. A kind of emptiness had filled the spaces between his bones months ago. He'd lost track of time, of place, of everything - he tried to conjure up the image of his mother, his sister, and found himself hallucinating wings beating in place, attached to nothing, smacking into walls in a desperate attempt to escape the shadowy tunnel. He opened his mouth to speak, yellowed and blackened teeth clicking. Nothing but a sigh escaped, rattling and weary, and the horse lay his head back on the cool floor, the heat of his fever reflecting back at him, making him shiver.

If he had been at his full weight, he would have cut an imposing figure, standing tall and muscular, silvery pelt and long mane adding gentleness to intimidation. As it was, his coat had dulled to a murky grey, coated in dust and debris, legs covered in bruises and nicks, the scars that had destroyed his hearing stark against the sides of his head. Shadows had poisoned his eyesight, made it see things that couldn't be, every movement turning into a possible attack, making him flee again.

He'd been running for so long that he didn't know if he knew how to stop.

His ribcage rose and fell, bones mountains covered by stretched-thin skin, pits of degraded muscle lining his limbs. Another breath, and he huffed, rolling to his other side, flesh smacking into stone, the harsh sound falling on ears that heard nothing but complete, absolute, perfect silence.

His mother. He could remember her, couldn't he? He had to. He tried again, and a beak was added to one of the wings, but it was shaky, fading as he watched, cloudy eyes focused on blank space. Thoughts of his sister brought a tail and white wings, but they faded too. He could remember his throat and mind humming with words, music, but he could only mouth them, misuse robbing his ability.

He was afraid.

He had been looking. Searching for something - or someone? It was all fuzzy now, with nothing to remind him. The living things he'd come across he'd fled from. Orion had been filled with the heavy scent of blood, and Pisces had been cold, crowded. The green of Eridanus had nearly blinded him, too much detail and color after two months of wandering, trying to find... his family. He'd been trying to find his family. Four months. Four long months.

The gelding sighed again, slumped, breath short and constricted by sickness.

He would try again.

As soon as he could move.

He had been hunting, crushing cave rats between his teeth within the confines of Canis and now Tunnel K. Following their pathetic tracks as they tried to hide from his wrath. Pitiful really. Though upon scarfing down another hopeless meal into the bottomless pit that was his stomach he glanced around the vast emptiness. He hadn't ventured down this tunnel before; this was somewhere new.

Slowly walking through the ghastly mist he mused to himself. It was similar to Cetus, so much so that he felt a calming presence. Granted this tunnel was bare, empty and cold. But it held character; it was its own and it rang out a sense of dread. In other words it felt wrong to be here. But to Vicktor, it felt like a second home; next to Cetus of course.

Chomping down on another unsuspecting rat he stop half mindedly. Allowing viscera to fall halfway from his jaws. The lingering scent of another gembound caught his attention. Weather they were a prey item or not would soon be found. All he knew was that they were someone new; someone worth investigating. Scarfing down what he could in that moment he took off; trotting against tunnel K's rock surface. It didn't take him long against the bare tunnel to see who this individual was. Coming to a silent stop he could make out the body of something of redeemable size! A horse! How exciting!

A smile thrown across his features he would sneak up on them. Focusing on being the very mist that filled the tunnel. It took just a few moment before he glanced at his would be paws. Seemingly nothing but empty air was were he stood.

Perfect


ROUND: 1/6
ATTEMPT: Blend in; sneak up on them
DEFENSE: None
INJURIES: None


"Speech"

"Thought"

There was a step from the tunnel's entrance, sending a tiny tremor through the ground, and his ears flicked halfheartedly towards it, too drained to move his gaze. Blank eyes watched the wall as shadows danced across it, birds in flight, their wings shimmering and ethereal. The smell was what finally got him to slowly rise his head, eyelids flickering - a heavy smell, rolling in like a wave; the copper of blood and the scent of something living. The nameless horse froze, breath picking up, head dipping this way and that - but there was nothing, just the tunnel and all its shadows.

Cold tendrils of fear lapped at his hocks, and the gelding's gem flickered, glowing gold for a moment. The glow was slowly drained away, replaced with a black stain, like ink on his chest. The darkness crept over his pelt, but it stopped only inches from his gemstone core, hunger and weakness draining him of even his magical power.

All he could do now was lay in a bony heap... and wait for the presence to come closer.

ROUND: 1 / 6
ATTEMPT: Hide from the smell...
DEFENSE: None
INJURIES:
- Starvation [previous]
- Fever [previous]

He had approached the horse in no time. Silent paws dancing across the stone surface. Breath silent but steady, entirely focused on his approach; his camouflage. It wasn't until Vicktor stood just a few feet from them did he fully examine their condition. Malnourished; gray, dull and practically lifeless. What a sorrowful and pitiful excuse of a horse. Let alone a decent meal...but even with the amount of skin that hung from their brittle bones it would be a fulfilling meal. Much more filling that the handfuls of rats he had been swallowing.

But the thought of this horse being sick flickered across his mind. He knew he could contract an illness; but that did not falter his choice. He would simply burn them to a crisp; nothing would survive after that.

Coaxing the fire to dance up his throat he slowly allowed it to trickle from his mouth. Revealing his teeth from the camouflage and finally the hungry flames that billowed out before the horse. He would be nothing but a pair of flaming eyes and a fire spiting mouth to the herbivore.

Perfect


ROUND: 2/6
ATTEMPT: Ignite the fire within
DEFENSE: None
INJURIES: None


"Speech"

"Thought"

He kept his gaze stuck to the thin air, ears pitched forward, skin twitching erratically. There was something there, something that smelled like death, and he almost welcomed it, chin dropping, ready to plead, beg for the shadow to reveal itself - but it did without a word from him, and he startled back, a rough, cracking screech rolling out of his abused, dry throat.

A demon. It had to be, its eyes nothing but pits of flame, its maw rolling open, teeth like knives, fire rolling from its interior. He scrambled backward, hooves scraping against the ground uselessly, finally managing to do an awkward tumble, collapsing feet from the specter, gasping for breath, the gem nestled in his chest sparking with broken light.

Again, the ink bloomed, climbing a few more inches, staining his front black as the shadows - but the rest of him stayed stark against the tunnel, and he shook, panting, staring dumbstruck at his certain demise.

ROUND: 2 / 6
ATTEMPT: Flee into the darkness.
DEFENSE: None
INJURIES:
- Starvation [previous]
- Fever [previous]

The horse acted just as anyone should seeing such sight. Attempting to raise its frail body and scramble to safety. Only its own health failed it; managing to collapse just feet away from Vicktor, gasping out of breath. Vicktor could see something sparkle, faint light that made him stop his slow pursuit rather abruptly. Light magic? The front of the horse ink began to bleed; staining their front chest black as the very shadows. No, this was vile shadow magic. A snarl curled his lips as flames billowed out harshly. Loose embers dancing across his bristling fur into nothingness. Did they know the shadow doe!? Was this some trick!? Was she here right now!?

He would test this possible illusion; for all his senses screamed it was reality. The scent; the erratic heartbeat and even their very appearance. But Vicktor would had fallen for such a trick many times. It would not happen again.

Fire rising up his throat he called it to his aid. Unleashing an onslaught of vicious flames upon the horse's gray pelt. Were they simply another pretender; or would he be greeted with something worthwhile.

Burn


ROUND: 3/6
ATTEMPT: See if they are a decoy!
DEFENSE: None
INJURIES: 2nd degree burns around mouth
1st degree burns down esophagus


"Speech"

"Thought"

The demon was angry, vengeful. His spell had made it pause for only a moment before it advanced, angry red flames carried by its breath. He tried to back up further, hooves indenting from smacking into the tunnel floor, but his strength was nearly gone, dancing lights accompanying the birds that flooded his vision, almost obscuring the flames, mixing with the smoke.

Death was taking shape, embers and licking red fire dancing across its form, but the gelding was mesmerized by its burning eyes and its terrible, terrible maw, lined with swords, jagged glass, ready to swallow him whole. The roaring of flames picked up, but he couldn't hear it, could only watch with half-faded vision as the red bloomed, blossomed towards him, and he leaned back, terrified.

He wasn't ready.

He had to find them.

But the heat rose, engulfed him, and his mouth opened in a rattling scream, one he couldn't tell if he'd even started, if it ever ended. His skin peeled and fell away, sloughed off of meat, fat bubbling under the torrent of carnation red. The burning swept up to his chin and down to his front hooves, degloving the entirety of his front, and the horse felt his throat rip with the effort of screeching, yelping, babbling out nonsense, nothing but the only expression of pain he had the energy to make.

Blood popped and sizzled under the heat, thickening into boiling sludge, until finally the bath of fire stopped, and he fell to his side with a low, cracking moan, copper sharp and bright in his mouth, pooling under his head, seeping from his body slowly, in time with his slow, stuttering heartbeat.

There were two shapes, black wings and white wings, dancing around his head, nudging at his cheek, gently grooming his muzzle. His family. He pushed into the touch, but it disappeared, vanished, left him smacking his snout into the overheated, dusty floor, and he moaned, soft and fading, bitter tears biting at his eyes.

Cool, calming darkness, inky tendrils of it, climbed up his skin, soothed his wounds, made him close his eyes and give in to the urge to sob, great shuddering things. In seconds, he was hidden in the shadows of the tunnel, the heavy smell of death marking his place.

ROUND: 3 / 6
ATTEMPT: MAKE IT STOP
DEFENSE: None
INJURIES:
- Starvation [previous]
- Fever [previous]
- 3rd degree burns spanning neck, chest and front legs

They did nothing but lay there; mesmerized by his flames. His eyes and viscous fangs; nothing else was in sight. It wasn't until the heat rose; engulfing the gelding did they open up a rattling scream. Only that curled a smile to Vicktor's ever hungry maw. To see another's skin peel away; to smell their fat burning! To watch the smoke billow from their charred and thick sanguine! It was invigorating!

He watched as it devoured his entire chest, raking up his throat; dancing as if an inevitable death. Yet it would not end, not yet. Flames ceasing he stepped back; taking in his beautiful masterpiece. It was quite easy to do; the horse did not attempt to run. They only cried out; babbling nonsense erupting from their lips as anything but a hushed whisper. Blood boils beneath popping forth from the pressure; it was perfect. Vicktor approached; paying close attention to every thin line of dripping crimson. Bone white eyes and eager fangs at the ready as he slowly paced around the gelding. Taking in everything, slowly drinking every detail.

It was all going better than he could hope; they were real, not an illusion after all. But then the shadows seeped in; ripping the beautiful view from him! Hiding the horse! Hiding everything around him in a cloak of black! A snarl escaped his lips; fur bristling yet nothing answered from within. He only growled out; spatting incomprehensible words at the herbivore. How dare they use magic such as she; to hide like a coward no less!

How dare they!

But these thoughts were fickle; ones to be easily swayed by the overwhelming sense of smell. He still had this; with a loss of sight he could enjoy the carnage in another way. Listen to the shifting body of the horse, smell its suffering; and soon...taste it.

ROUND: 4/6
ATTEMPT: Shock them!
DEFENSE: None
INJURIES: 2nd degree burns around mouth
1st degree burns down esophagus


"Speech"

"Thought"

The demon was pacing, he could feel the vibrations circling him. The gelding shivered, tears drying from fear. He tried to still his breath, keep himself hidden, but the cloying smell of his own burnt flesh made him gag, shuddering as lifeblood stained the tunnel floor. His pupils shrunk to pinpricks, feeling Death's paws beat around him, until they finally stilled.

Terror chilled him to the bone. Why would it stop? Slowly, his gaze rose to the fiery eyes and mouth, stopped right above his camouflaged head. His eyes squeezed shut, trying to keep the whinny of fear trapped in his chest, pulling his destroyed legs closer to his stomach and begging for his magic to help, to coat him in a darkness so thick he could sink through the floor.

The tendrils cradled his face, tender, like even his own powers pitied him now. They were sickly things, oozing fingers made of darkness, slipping into the corners of his eyes and coating their gold glow, bathing his panting mouth and flaring nostrils in a coat of ink. He disappeared just a little more - but no shadow was deep enough to hide the scent of deadened flesh and tangy, blooming blood.

ROUND: 4 / 6
ATTEMPT: Stay hidden.
DEFENSE: None
INJURIES:
- Starvation [previous]
- Fever [previous]
- 3rd degree burns spanning neck, chest and front legs

Slow pace into the darkness Vicktor approached the hidden horse. Maw open; tasting the air for that burnt flesh. He would sink his fangs into the horse; have it scream out, run even if it could! Though it wasn't doing anything but hiding; crying and stifling their sobs out of fear. This wasn't as fun as Vicktor foresaw; it wouldn't be that rewarding in the end? Would it!? His sense of sight taken by the shadows the weak horse summoned and manipulated. It wasn't like he could watch the gembound die; let alone suffer. Though tasting and listening to the gurgle of sweet ichor could more than make up for the loss.

Vicktor debated, until a fickle thought raced through his mind. The horse wasn't fighting back, why? Had they accepted death the moment this battle began? Even the most damaged of prey still struggle to get away. Even when he had torn the limbs off of cave rats for simple games they still dragged themselves; screamed out for help. Yet, this horse did none of that.

He paced; maw open with teeth at the ready. Yet he did not bite at the shadows, he did not claw or scream. He only debated. Friendlier thoughts sprouted from the ashes of his psyche. They couldn't take care of themselves, they understood little of what was going on...they were afraid...just like he was when it all went to hell. When he spiraled out of control...What if, the horse was still a child?

He simply stood there; chasing these thoughts through his skull. Rattling them off the bone walls; they were interfering. Rising up emotions from the past, he couldn't have this! Not now! He wasn't weak! He was not prey! He would dare not feel! Not for a meal, and definitely not now!

Yet, he did nothing but grow silent. Heavy in thought; shadows flowing over his ebony pelt. His camouflage gone, not that it mattered now.

ROUND: 5/6
ATTEMPT: BITE HIM!?
DEFENSE: None
INJURIES: 2nd degree burns around mouth
1st degree burns down esophagus


"Speech"

"Thought"