The cursed one’s body, once again, no longer has a shapeless form — something misty and incomplete, incomprehensible. Lying on the shore with the frigid waters at his hocks, the numbness of weightlessness is still there, but now it feels as if a rock sinks him down into the soft granules of pale sand beneath.
Gone, gone, gone. He was gone, a ritual, blood letting, gone. Now, blood moon orbs shoot open to be met with the surreal image of the coast.
No.
Everything must’ve failed — he must’ve failed.
Sprawled out, half lucid, eyes wide like saucers but no expression but sheer and utter emptiness — something is missing. What is missing? He feels the weight of a rough rock churning and shredding the roof of his mouth and the surface of his tongue. He has his stone, but what else is missing is beyond him.
Cursed and alone, gone then back again, the beast lies upon the shore, waves whipping at his fur, body so cold and numb it no longer shivers.
The cursed is not dead…but dammit he should be…wants to be…needs to be…
ALDUIN, BANE OF KINGS, ANCIENT SHADOW UNBOUND...
...WITH A HUNGER TO SWALLOW THE WORLD.