Spoiler Music for reading- Moonlight sang its silver serenade. The shrieks of steel. The howl of wolves. The cries of the damned. All echoed out over rust-painted cobble as the night went on. He had fought long and hard. Day by day - week after week. A month of combat without pause. Yet, man had its limit. He had his limits. Now, the hunter laid still, chained to earth. Steel bound extremities, briars bound mind, curse bound soul. A prisoner in locks of three. None of which could be broken by weary body and half-hearted sentiment. As soon as heavy lids lifted and idle digits twitched, affirmation of his continued existence arrived - delivered by two of five senses. He was still alive. Yet, burdensome query came to mind- “Have I been bested?” At last, the folley of mundane effort had come to its halt. Onyx irises sent stare heavenward to the dirt-laden cavern ceiling. It provided reflection enough for the events that have transpired thus far. He had fought for too long. He had choked. He had made few mistakes, sparse albeit crucial. One slip from a tired hunter was all it would take for wolves to pounce and capitalise on, after all. None could claim perfection. Try as he might, the fight was too long - too strenuous. Try as he might, the sound of that Ezekiel’s voice in his mind could hardly be discarded. ‘You know you've harmed me more than anyone else has at once in this whole endeavour, don't you?’ He could take solace in that at the very least. Unaided by aberrant power, noble supply, or divine grace. A disavowed, ex-Darkwald kept the flames of resistance alive long enough for further torches to be lit. Head drooped low. Back down to the earth as chains demanded. Edges of lips picked up in place, providing absent jailers with an expression of satisfaction. The time came for eyes to fall shut and for him to indulge in rest well-deserved. Mayhaps such was all he could do for now. Mayhaps such was all an old hunter’s dream. Mayhaps such was all a month-long midnight. Best to sleep until the aria of dawn.
