A long rest was overdue. Away from the emotions. From the humans. From everything.
Alasdair was influencing him. Breaking him down. Tearing away the frightening visage that He had built up. His features were softer, His voice was less raspy, more refined. He hated that. Alasdair had no right doing this to him. Forcing these emotions upon him.
So, He left. He broke away. They spent a year going over who was in control after they reached the mountains. He spent a year whittling Alasdair down. Breaking him. Alasdair spent a year in terror. Suffering nightmares where even the Nightmare did not dare to walk. Alasdair watched as everything he had tried to do crumbled before him.
And He laughed. Alasdair saw everyone he’d ever come into contact with perish before him at his own hand. The girl with the jet black hair, purple cloak, and the gem in her forehead. The pale pianist with the stark white hair and eyes that never saw. The white-haired boy spirit who loved and cared for him. The strong alien with the onyx eyes and powerful laugh who had a tender side he only barely saw. The pyromancer with the flaming hair and burning questions.
And He laughed. Alasdair twisted and turned, trying to fight off the visions. Trying to break away and hide. But there were only so many places to go in their head. He stalked Alasdair constantly, in their own little game of hide and seek. He always sought, Alasdair was always found. Alasdair admitted defeat, broken beyond repair. So they returned, with Him in full control of the body.
He had every intention of breaking off all ties to every other being they came into contact with, and the Nightmare was first. Yet, despite all of his best efforts, he had nothing but pleasantries with the creature. He tortured Alasdair more after that day.
The next was the snow spirit. He let Alasdair do it, a special bit of mental agony for the wrong he’d done to the Other. He watched as the boy spirit turned to defiance as he was told to keep away from His counterpart. Of course He’d send him out in the morning, the Other had replied after taking control. He lied, of course. He hated the boy spirit ever since he and Alasdair began to get closer and closer. It REPULSED him.
But now, there was no more blonde man with comforting blue eyes and a smile to match. It was only fear. Fear, and death. He was the personification of those concepts. He became a creature the parents told the children to keep them in line, the dare that turned into a missing child, the death after a heavy night of drinking. The terror of every city.
