Snippet #2693984

Even after the restoration Altian gave him, and after the effects the blade had upon his body had worn off, he felt weary, and not entirely in body. Mac's mind clouds as he follows along, head downcast, he didn't really know what to think of what happened, let alone of himself losing his composure. He was a treasure hunter, an adventurer, not a killer, and yet there he was back there ready to take a lethal shot because he saw no other solution. The thought rings, repeating over and over inside his head, the thought that he was not strong enough, that he did not have enough power.

He heard a voice breaking through his thoughts. He looks up, first hearing from Willow then Altian before they sat off to do their ritual to summon that great ghost. He watches the island, noting the flow of water around it. Even he could feel it as some great Nexus point of whatever residual power permeated throughout these cursed woods. It was a presence that chilled him, it was a literal coldness in the air. Yet he had no fear from it, perhaps worry for them but not fear. He has his own desire, he wants to know how to cure the curse. He still owes a favor to a friend.

Maybe she's still alive out there, he thought.

Part of him wanted to go there himself, to give hell to whatever lingering sentiments exist of this being for ever setting loose such a scourge upon the world. To dare defile a forest with this wicked magic, let alone condemning people to such a horrid state of life. It was a disgusting abuse of power, and that is something lacking elegance. In fact, there was nothing at all elegant about this curse... it is just... cruel. It should be purged.

He heard another voice at this point, it was the Altarin, Tam, saying what seems to be praise. It was shocking, to say the least, he had originally thought he held nothing but resentment for him earlier. In fact, he feels considerably more welcome than before and he is at a loss as to why.

"Thank you, though I fear I lost myself some," he responds honestly, thinking back at his temper flaring. "You fought well yourself, and I suppose necessity has been a great teacher in that regard."

Necessity...

He thought back again on what Emerin said about those men, that they were only following orders, that they were guided by nightmares. He thought about it quite a lot since then.

"I don't exactly hate them, I hate the course of action chosen... or more, the course the world has made it seem like these actions are deemed necessary by them. Fear may connect them, but it is also such a manipulative feeling, twisting what may have once been a noble cause, and blinding to others. Fear is their chains now, and nightmares are their cages," he mutters, taking a drink from one of his canteens. "Perhaps... but regardless... every nightmare needs to come to an end, and a different kind of power is needed to do just that. True power. The power not to destroy, but create new possibilities. Now wouldn't that be some treasure?"