MAD HATTER

In a pretty little plain dotted with rocks, the God wandered with thoughts most chaotic. He had been in a trance for the last few days, haunted by flickers of emerald eyes. He was in agony, unfocused – only briefly coming back to himself to take notice of his surroundings. The landscape seemed peaceful with ponds and green grass, but beneath the beauty, the ground told a grim tale – it was stained with blood. Setekh, with his eyes of molten rock and insanity, grinned at the thought of all the lives lost here, humming to himself of gore and loss. He scented the air, but found nothing familiar to him. Only the mingling of differing wolves, some of packs and some of loners. Nothing of importance to him.

His fur was an extreme contrast to the scenery as he moved with grace and confidence; befitting the station he was born into. As he navigated blood splatter and the occasional bone or two, he suddenly stopped in his tracks, and his face erupted into an expression of profound thrill. A battleground was meant to be used. Would not some unknown soul come, if he called for a challenge? With a laugh, he threw his head back and sent out a call, one that was mournful and angry. He could wish all he wanted for his beloved daughter to show up, but her punishment would come in time…

"He Speaks" | 'He Thinks' | The Madness