Locke
Puppet Master
He could feel the planet. The energy. The death. A plagueworld by designation. A grave. Tomb. The signs led him. Guided him. Whispered. He could feel the pull as he walked onward. Forward. Ahead and behind his minions did the same. His work would begin again. A new task to finish. It was endless. Eternal.
He followed the light. A flicker. A flame in the dark. It burned dull glow like left over coals in an old fire. The mist rolled across the ground. Midnight black. Roiling. Billowing. It tugged along at his boots as he walked. As they walked.
The glow was ahead. Always ahead. He walked on. The keening was ahead. Louder than before. Stronger. Pulling. Shoving. A beacon in the black. A soul. More powerful than the others. More dangerous. Lethal. A test of his abilities. His resolve. His work. It would never end. Or would it. He didn't know. Didn't care. It simply was. Boots crunched silently with each step.
He walked on.
He followed the light. A flicker. A flame in the dark. It burned dull glow like left over coals in an old fire. The mist rolled across the ground. Midnight black. Roiling. Billowing. It tugged along at his boots as he walked. As they walked.
The glow was ahead. Always ahead. He walked on. The keening was ahead. Louder than before. Stronger. Pulling. Shoving. A beacon in the black. A soul. More powerful than the others. More dangerous. Lethal. A test of his abilities. His resolve. His work. It would never end. Or would it. He didn't know. Didn't care. It simply was. Boots crunched silently with each step.
He walked on.