There Is No Leaving

The taste of blood still lingered on his forked tongue, though whether it was his enemies' or his own, he could no longer say. He had returned overall victorious from the battlefield, but there was no triumph in his heart. Only a hollow emptiness that gnawed at his insides like a ravenous beast. He had reveled in the challenges. Losing some, winning others. But now, in the cold light of home, he felt only a creeping sense of unease.

Was this all there was? An endless cycle of violence and death, a futile grasping for glory that slipped through his claws like sand? He had proven himself time and again, carved a bloody path through opponents. And yet, the gnawing fear of inadequacy still plagued him, a festering wound that refused to heal.

He needed more. More power, more control, more everything. Only then could he fill the yawning void within himself. Xairo stalked through the shadows, his movements fluid and predatory despite the injuries that marred his powerful frame. The throbbing ache of torn flesh and bruised muscle only fueled the dark hunger that coiled in his gut.

"Xairo Saxe"