Armand ran feverishly. He finaly felt he had run far enough to catch his breath. He looked back. The building looked barren.
His Master was gone and he was free from the nightmare.
He laid his head down upon the ground and wrapped his robes about him.
That is when the nightmare truly began.If only he too had fallen into that hole, then perhaps none of this would need to be told.
There he stood again, in the abbey watching the undead hobble closer and closer. And then the dream went red. The demon showed up. He uttered his curse and then the dream ended.
Armand woke in sweat, as all the times before. It was three days now since he left.
He rose startled and drew his blade at the slightest sounds. He looked haggard and felt as if he hadn't eaten in days, though the blood staining his clothes said otherwise. He knew now what was happening. At night, as he dreamt, the curse took hold, and he was no longer himself. He woke always as he melted back in a mere mortal.
"Run like a wolf."
He looked back. Fear stayed his feet.
But, truly,was there any other choice than to go back to find the answers. Perhaps even this curse was mentioned in the Relic.
Wearied and worried, Armand rose and turned about.
With each step he felt some inner voice tuggin at the chains that bound his soul, emboldening him to continue coming closer, urging him to yield himself completely to its will and follow.
With the suggestions or not, Armand knew he needed to return.
And so, Grishom still held sway over his servant. His fierce spirit burned in his fiery prison beside the demon whom Armand unwittingly enslaved again.
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