The crashing waterfall sounded tyrannical and overbearing, drowning out the noise of most animals as the chilly night wind began rifling through his hair and spindrift shrouded his body in its thin brume.
A moment later, cuts bloomed across Vale's skin from no visible cause.
The thin lines of blood only furthered Ximena's panic.
"Vale, what's wrong?!"
Vale's head was pounding.
The feeling eating at his heart — his essence — was only growing more odious and repugnant by the second.
With a small trail of blood lining his cheek, Vale said:
"Nothing. Actually, I feel better than ever before."
Before, his purpose on Pandora hung by a tenuous thread permanently threatening to snap — he had no other claim to Pandora than survival; however, his purpose had become all too clear…
Revenge.
Revenge on those who'd dare to play god — his god.
In that pursuit he had to become something not even a god could control.
***
