Private Mountaintop [ Shakti ]

[Alexander]

M A N D A​

The dreams were...Chaos. ​

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She would not have seen him since that fateful day. Since the moment he had surrendered himself - surrendered their happiness - in a vain attempt to save her from harm. The fact that he had been involved in a travesty was something that would come out eventually. No matter how careful the mercenary was, he knew it was only a matter of time before he was caught. And, in doing so, Shakti Sweet would have been dragged into oblivion with him. Thus, he made the decision to protect her. His folly. His sacrifice. ​

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She would not have been present when he was banished. She would not have been in the chambers where the Knights Obsidian and the Dread Queen Srina Talon plundered his mind. She would have not seen him cast into the depths of the Netherworld. But she'd have felt it. That finality as his presence was effectively removed from the world of the living. Though he yet drew breath, by all accounts he could have been considered dead. However, above all else, the mercenary was stubborn. ​

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Amidst mountains of flesh and rainfall of blood, he climbed. Literal Hell had become his home now - but he was determined to find a way back. Any. Way. Back. Perhaps it was fortune...or perhaps it was fate...but he found another like himself amidst the storm. Another who sought a way out. Together they sat before an ethereal fire of emerald: their sole means of watching the waking world from their prison. Amidst the flame, the mercenary witnessed all he held dear. With fangs bared, he watched as that damn Exarch Adron Malvern brutalized her. Watched her isolation. Watched her suffer. ​

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All because of him. ​

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In the silence between each day...when rest would finally find the fiery-haired woman, he'd interrupt her dreams. He'd plunge his hand into those emerald flames, suffering their ethereal burns upon his flesh for just a moment. She'd hear his voice - a solemn vow that he was coming. That he would make it all right again. And that she could break his nose three times over when it was all said and done. Easier said than done. The dreams were brief, yet consistent. His voice present almost each day. Louder and clearer as he grew accustomed to the flames. ​

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And with each day, the banished duo hatched a plan. ​

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With each hour, they grew closer to their goal...until one evening, the message would change. He beckoned her to rise. To go as quickly as she could. To find him on Manda. He had not the strength to tell her more, but only to share glimpses of where he promised he would be. A hospital bed. A room number. A slumbering man. What had the mercenary concocted this time...only her journey would tell.​