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Monster. That was a word, so often used to describe him. An adjective so appropriate to describe his demonic nature- his twisted soul. Those who knew of his deeds, his crimes, his notorious history- knew him to be true to his demonic name. Few who met the soul, of the alabaster beast walked away unchanged or alive. Intimidation. Terrifying. Evil. Perfect words to describe someone so sinister. Demon. Perfection. Monster. Evil. Twisted. Terrifying. Daunting. Intimidating. The list went on and on, perfect words, to describe him. Perfection in every way.

Winter had gave way to spring, and around the lands, demonstrations of new life were to be seen. He loathed it, craving the bitter nights- craving the snow, the ice. The ice was so close to death, so welcoming. It was so bitter, and he had grown fond of its predictability. His alabaster form moved at a leisurely pace through the land, expressing his idle indifference at the scene before him. He had journeyed east, and found himself at an interesting scenario. Large paws had brought him to the edge of the river, that he had been idly following, an where the trees cleared, he could see the water moving at a wild and rapid pace. Finally, something broke through his boredom, and intrigued he padded forward.

He came to halt at the edge of the river, lowering his head to quench his thirst. The cold water slid easily across his pallet and down his throat, ending the idle need that had been plaguing him. Raising his head, his dual-colored orbs stared across the river, as a new scent wafted through his nostrils. Ears flicking in indifference, assuming the fool would scurry away- aware of the danger they could be stirring up if they dared near him. He stared down at his reflection in the water studying the odd markings that adorned his face. The markings had become the messenger of so many things. They had withheld the adoration of others and scrutiny of some. They had always set the ivory beast apart from others, and it was something he loathed.

Amaranth, the only wolf aside from himself that he had ever cared for, had looked past the marks and the sociopathic wolf that laid behind. She saw something in him worth loving, something worth adoring and watching her be torn away from him had shattered the last bit of sanity, the last bit of clarity in his mind. His heart grew hard, shriveled up in his chest and fell silent, the calming effects of serotonin no longer held any effect over him. He was never to be normal again. Demanding revenge on those who had taken, his one sliver of hope at a normal life. His one ounce of happiness, he became Creedance Voltaire, the monster- the epitome of nightmares.

Another breeze blew, and he took the same scent in again, and turning in a fluid motion he lifted his head into the air, his position moving to be aggressive. Tail raised, fur bristiling the lyrics fell from his jaws, as they parted to reveal his crimson stained teeth. ?Who dares disturb the devil? Show yourself, fool.? The question as rhetorical, the statement following a command not to be ignored.