Azeal walked away from the dead body. His heart in turmoil, but his eyes had become resolved in its path. Walking away was but the result of his soul's inner judgment. It was arduous, but it was something he had to accomplish.

The hardest part wasn't pulling the sword out. Nor was it tearing his eyes away from the dead man's cold eyes.

No, it was turning away. Turning his back on the carrier of love. It became a sign of acceptance; that no matter what, Azeal would live a legacy worth the emotions he had slain.

Every last one.

He did not know how. Or what his overarching goal should be to achieve this, but he knew one thing for sure. He would reach it as he built his eternal fortress.

As he built his home.

He continued his gauntlet of emotional struggle and resolve. Walking passed many soldier that paved a path for him. Removing the bodies of the dead, and moving themselves out of the way in the process.

Azeal's eyes began to shine its usual brightness; a brilliant red that seemed to follow him. Leaving its mark in the world. He stood straighter, because no matter the pain he suffered, there will always be beauty in the world to bring him back. No matter how far gone he had been.

His Emotion Sight kicked in, as though it knew what he desired. The dark and dull landscape that surrounded him before did so again. But this time its effects were negligent in contrast to its previous might.

This time he saw the lights. Each shining amid the bleakness that covered the battlefield; giving beauty to the dark world once again. He saw them all, fear, righteous anger, sadness, and grief.

Each carving its own space in the world once again.

Azeal walked, each step a reaffirmation that he would not let despair overcome him.

Azeal walked, with purpose he strode onwards. Seeing again, acceptance, content, and love in their divine beauty.

He could not stop his forward march. The momentum had begun to build. And its end goal is where he faced his greatest struggle. His tent, an island by itself. An unperceivable barrier surrounding it. All other tents stationed far away in a circle.

Azeal could not stop it anymore. His dark feelings were being eroded by the constant thrumming of the emotions he witnessed.

He did what he thought impossible, at least for the time being.

He smiled, and it was a genuine smile.

She watched as Dendar Orbes sat in an opulent room. Enjoying fine wines and an elven cuisine. Intricate salads and candied nuts of various kinds were showcased on the many platters he had laid. They all sat on plates of gold and bowls of silver, upheld on a table of the most expensive wood any can put their hands.

He sat enjoying himself on the things his greed had demanded. How he got the elven food was not a mystery. No, it was a tale of sorrow and separation. An elven couple; their marriage destroyed. It was meant to sate the hunger of a madman.

Outcasts from their hidden forests, they ran together to fulfill their love. Ending up in a domain far away from their original home. One with promises of peace, prosperity, and acceptance. They came here with hope and a better life together. A beacon of light for those that ran from the black-hearted.

Yet, they knew not of the darkness in the shadows created by that shining beacon of hope. They knew not of the duke - filled with greed. One with an unending hunger for what he had not.

The groom - killed as he defended the soul of his heart. The bride - taken to sate an evil desire.

Broken and lacking all hope, she latched onto the only thing that helped her survive. She had a skill, something the most powerful would have desired. Something no one had seen ever since the forest elves closed their homes from the outside world so long ago.

She was a cook - a magical gourmet. One of the few that had once fed the Royal line. She was a proud artist of delicious elven delicacies.

But, now she was nothing but a weak and broken woman. Willing to please her master no matter how demanding his desires lest she be punished again. Anything but being punished again.

Shivering in recollection of the horrors she had seen. Of the abuse, she had been subjected too. She waited, eyes downcast, as he ate.

She stood there, as he smacked his lips in content. Eating the food she swore to only make for her soulmate.

"It is absolutely wonderful, Veristia. Absolutely wonderful!"

The destroyer of her soul exclaimed. Her gaunt face showed no emotion at his praise.

Emotions, they were things she had forgotten how to convey so long ago.

"This s.. slave is meant to serve." She replied with what he had forcefully carved into her feeble mind. A testimony to what she was now - a slave.

She stood there within arms reach of him. Her hands were hidden behind her back, for they shivered without stop, fearing the man sitting no more than a three feet away.

He suddenly looked up and stared at her. Veristia's heart skipped a beat. And fear took control of her mind, but she kept her outer look the epitome of servitude. Head lowered, back bent - tilted forward a bit, and eyes downcast.

As she waited, he suddenly smiled. One she was familiar with.

'No No No!'

She cried in her mind, but her outer look stayed unchanged. It was the smile that grew on his face every time he forced himself upon her. It was the smile of a devil.

He reached forward to grab her. Intent on defiling her once again. To remind her of the lover she had lost long ago; forever to be replaced by this evil human.

He began at her shoulders massaging them, caressing her smooth skin. He bit her long pointy ears, something he tended to enjoy, and she hated more than anything else.

But, as he was about to continue in his demonic act. A subtle and rhythmic drumming noise sounded out from within his robes. His look of confusion was clear then a certain light of recognition flashed. And lastly, an enormous grin broke out once again.

"Just wait, my dear, I will be back to enjoy your company."

He turned to walk away, and as he did so, he reached into his pocket. Pulling out a communication stone, he froze a dozen steps away from her. Time seemed to still at the implication of his simple act.

Without warning, Dendar screamed at the top of his lungs until his voice became hoarse. It was an unholy cry that made her ears hurt. His hands tightened around the stone, shaking in an uncontrollable rage. He screamed again, this time much more reserved. Throwing the stone, with a skill to enhance his strength, it shattered on the reinforced walls that surround this room.

Looking to her, his eyes burned with undisguised hatred.

"Get out! Get out!" He yelled at her, making her flinch subconsciously.

She took advantage of the moment to get away from this evil man. Her last thought as she exited the room, were thoughts of gratitude to whoever caused him such anger. In their failure and soon to be punishment, she found herself saved from the clutches of that man.

At least for the time being.