At the base of a forlorn mountain ran a small creek, cutting and winding through the small crater; a bowl-shaped depression formed from the aftermath of the battle that had recently taken place. Though the ground had caved in, the water didn't fill the place, following its natural course as it quenched the thirst of the ruined city; littered with corpses and washed with the blood of the many citizens it had once harbored.

In the exact center of the crater, in a vaguely crude cylindrical swath of green – decorated here and there with grass and occasional patches of chrysanthemum, circular flowers in brilliant shades of yellow, lavender, and crimson – stood a stone marker bearing wreath of golden grass.

The scene of death was quite beautiful, the flowers weren't watered by the creek water, rather it was the strands of blood jutting from the surrounding bodies that made them bloom in all their glory.

He knelt before the tiny monument, gazing listlessly at the crude script forming the victim's name. His hollow eyes dripped with blood tears and tendrils of darkness emanated from his body. His shivering hand reached for the monument, trying to caress it, but stopped mid-air, afraid to dirty the grey stone with his blood-stained hands.

"What have you done?" he said in a hushed tone, uncertain whether he was talking to himself or the owner of the grave.

"Did you deserve it?" he spoke again, each word causing the surrounding black tendrils to multiply in both size and numbers. They whirled and twisted in sheer anger of their owner, mourning, tossing, decimating, and annihilating everything around them, everything... except the precious grave.

The surrounding corpses reminded him of the things he longed to forget, they had to go so he pulverized them with a flick of his hand.

He might have slaughtered the whole city, he might have killed the preparators; slicing their bodies, tearing their souls apart, piece by piece till they drowned in the cacophony of their own screams but it wasn't enough. Nothing was enough. His blood boiled thirsting for revenge. The darkness inside him churned and burned, corroding and eroding vestiges of his dead heart. If it was before he might have stopped it, but now he wished for the darkness to swallow him whole, take control and extinguish the last embers of sanity that shackled sinister being residing within his decaying soul.

The corruption made him cackle, the scent of blood brought him delight, and the darkness provided him with respite. With one last look at the monument, he stood up, turned around, and left the place. The veil of darkness expanding around him, gradually encompassed the sky and everything it sheltered, leaving only a patch of green and gold amidst the black, corrupted landmass.