Tonight is the night!

Retribution shall be mine. My ever burning wrath sated. I will glut my hunger for vengeance. For justice will be served on a golden platter.

Oh, how wonderful it will be to see him take his last breath. Reaching out to me for hope, just to be denied; as he left my brother to rot in his early grave!

His death would finally free me of my obligation. Unfetter my soul from its heavy chains. I would finally be able to rest in peace…

Yet, I am hesitating to cement the last brick in his stone coffin. Doubt clings to my mind as I attempt to ensure his death.

Of all emotions I could feel, guilt plagues me at this moment! A curse never meant to be caressed.

Feeling wetness crawling down his cheek, Undiel wiped at it. But, despite how many times he did so, another would always follow the last. An unending torment to his agony-filled suffering.

What would his brother think of him now? What would he say if he saw his brother committing this act? Would he encourage him or dissuade him from this dark path?

There was no satisfaction in his role, just a surfeit of pain and guilt.

He remembered what the eccentric Raug had told him as he and the others began preparing the camp. At that moment, he felt as though his soul was stripped of its covering; bare to the eyes of that stranger.

As he walked towards me, mana coalesced around him in a colorless integument. His helm looking in my direction. The only way to know where he intended to go was from the ever-burning red eyes that shined through the helms eyeholes. Piercing into my heart, as though he could see my emotions as a tangible thing.

Stopping before me, he stayed silent. While I was too afraid to even move. Cattle in front of a dragon. As I looked into his eyes again, the first thing that I could see was… the look of someone enthralled. Bewitched by a beauty unmatched.

I had started to relax, feeling as though he would not harm me. That is until he spoke,

"Your wrath is a beautiful thing. Even more so when it surrounded by your immense grief."

My heart had stopped at that statement, but what followed it is the cause of my greatest dilemma. Words that seemed to echo infinitely in my mind. The reason for my great guilt.

"It drives you to accomplish things you could have never done. Yet, you forget to ask yourself a simple question when you act upon it. What would he think?"

The world shattered around him. The only sound he could hear was the constant drumming of his beating heart. All others seemed to escape him.

Having been tortured enough, Undiel finally came to a decision. He threw away the poison he carried into the river they camped near.

If the General, Harold Winsten, is meant to die tonight, then let it be with honor. That would be what his dearest brother would have wanted.

Turning around he headed to where he knew Troyis was hiding. Waiting for him to reach this decision by himself. Constantly supporting him from afar. A guardian and a… a father he never had.

Undiel knew he had to move on. His brother would have laughed at the miserable state he was in. He would have told him to be a man; to move on with life.

"Undiel, 'uov finished? You took 'uor time relieving 'uorself! A party is wai'ing for ous! A time of joy 'nd dancing 'nd drinking! Let's go."

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Hollered Troyis with a massive smile, as he noticed Undiel walking towards his hiding spot.

Smiling back, he replied, "Yes, I need a drink!"

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He couldn't control himself. There was an undeniable urge to tell the Monkeykin-named Undiel- what he thought of the beautiful emotions he conveyed.

Although he was full of anger and sadness, he still was able to live a satisfactory life. Not allowing his emotions to control him. Able to work for a goal; to pay back the debt he owed. That more than anything made him special.

And it made Harold a vital contributor to this splendor. The fact that they acted per his desires made Azeal's respect for Harold grow. Yet, Undiel needed to be reminded of that fact lest he makes an irreversible mistake.

Hopping of buttercup, he petted her head. Whispering to her, he made sure she stayed in her spot. Undiel would be quite intimidated to see the Oel with a bad attitude stomping behind him. She was the scariest thing Azeal had ever seen. Fortunately or unfortunately, she was extremely fond of him.

Looking around, they were situated in a meadow a few hundred feet away from the road. Azeal watched as Harold's entourage set up their intricate camp systematically. Each knowing their role and how to do it.

After searching for a while, Azeal found Undiel and a regular guard setting up a medium sized tent near the outskirts of the camp. Knowing the emotions running rampant in him, he guessed the shelter was for Undiel. Far away from everyone else to bask in his loneliness.

Walking towards him, he watched the fluttering cloak of sadness covering the Monkeykin. It was beautiful in ways Azeal could never put into words. The quote, a picture speaks a thousand words, seemed very appropriate at that moment. Without noticing he was already standing in front of Undiel for an indiscernible amount of time.

Azeal watched as a faint tint of grayish green for nervousness and purplish red of fear seem to grow from his sternum. Constantly changing shape and getting smaller. Bewitched by the allure, he watched for a few seconds more. Willing to allow the silence to extend.

Having noticed Undiel's continuous squirming under Azeal's gaze, he decided to breach the topic he was here for.

"Your wrath is a beautiful thing. Even more so when it surrounded by your immense grief."

Speaking with as much sincerity he could possibly convey, Azeal continued,

"It drives you to accomplish things you could have never done. Yet, you forget to ask yourself a simple question when you act upon it. What would he think?"

Speaking his piece, and accomplishing his goal of reminding him of Harold's watchful gaze, Azeal walked away. Satisfied with his work.

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Sitting in his pavilion, Azeal watched the vast emotions conveyed during the late night party the people of this camp were having. It had been a few hours since he had spoken with Undiel. The changes happening in his emotional scape were astonishing.

Gone were the anger and wrath. It was replaced by great grief and acceptance. Azeal, before this, thought that emotions were equally beautiful. He had seen anger, joy, fear, and sadness, but never had he seen this before. He saw acceptance in its embracing grasp… then he saw content in its constant thrumming of colors… then love in its encompassing beauty.

They were in a league by themselves. A stratum separate from all other emotions. Each special in their own way.

Oh! They were angelic in their essence; divine in their beauty!

It was after that when he saw it. He witnessed it in its most hideous visage. Azeal thought that all emotions were beautiful, yet, he was proven wrong again. He saw the destroyer of dreams; the killer of passions.

He saw death.

As he watched the party through the covering of his pavilion, he noticed something out of place. Moved away from the enjoyment of spectating the emotions, he focused on the grass fields.

'Hmm, is the grass supposed to have emotions?'

As he continued to watch, the emotions they conveyed was different. It was filled with something malicious. There was no beauty in it. It was ugly and appalling; constantly morphing into different abstract shapes. Dirty browns and horrid purples surrounded their carriers. They were filled with the intent to hurt and abuse. Filled with the intent to kill.

It was then that he finally saw what made him furious beyond anything he had ever felt. He watched as those poor excuses of emotions came near one of beauty… and snuffed the lights it had conveyed. Killing the sentry that had felt longing and loneliness.

Leaving only death! A dark and a dull grey was all that remained.

Jumping to his feet, Azeal became lost in his fury. Lost in the same unknown feeling he had felt during his spar against Harold, but at the same time, it was more.

Rushing out, he roared with all his might as he raised his greatsword towards the tall grass fields. His sudden appearance caused the drinking and dancing to halt momentarily as they watched him charge towards the unknown. The only one to understand what had happened was Roland who sat a bit away from the party.

Getting up from his seated position, Roland grabbed his staff as he spoke with urgency,

"Harold! We are being attacked!"