Drowned in Agony.
Consumed by Wrath.
Embraced by Shadow.
Every fiber of his being was burning.
Itching.
A vivid truma unlike any other had been carved into his existence.
The mind remembered.
The body felt.
It would not stop; It did not fade.
Only pain remained.
Only he endured.
Left alone, suffering, there was nothing.
Nothing but shadows.
The shadows were warm, familiar, but he could not understand why.
In their comforting arms, his thoughts stirred.
He had been patient.
Easygoing.
Weak.
His priorities were wrong.
He had chosen to act from the shadows.
Gathering information, as though he were some kind of spy.
Holding out hope—trying to escape this Nightmare without any more suffering.
-Escape-
What a fool he was.
It was made clear to him.
There is no escape.
This is life.
That agony changed him.
Broken something which cannot be unbroken.
Something which can only be mended.
If his mind were a mirror, it would be shattered.
Glass dust powdered the ground, it remained mostly intact.
Peering into it, within the dozen reflections;
Some were eerily calm: His Clarity.
Others were a raging inferno: His Wrath.
Interspersed together, split evenly, the two were at odds.
They only agreed on one thing;
Vengeance.