Brought to his knees before the kingdom after ten years of hiding, Kyros believed that he would be sentenced to death for the murder of his pack. His sentence would mean the end of it all - his torment, his abuse, his turmoil.
But his destiny change...
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The tranquillity of the dark forest immersed him in a world of pulchritudinous aura.
Stillness surrounded him, dark and delightful. It caressed his skin and whistled in his ears like a beautiful song. He slank among the shadows, chasing the silhouettes that hid him from the outside world as he became one with nature around him.
The wind wound around his body, cloaking him in a chill that matched the darkness his heart contained. The air was cold, chilly. It moved through the branches above him that swayed like the velvet night, dark and sleek and everything a nightmare could consist of.
They creaked and groaned out their misery, their dark leaves behaving in the way a canopy would, sealing out the light from above and extinguishing any chance of life that wished to crawl on the forest floor.
Their gnarly, thick, distorted dark trunks resembled statues of stone. Mighty and strong, still and complete. Even the wind and the most mighty of storms could not shake them. Kyros let his calloused hands roam the bumpy planes of those same trees. Rough, hard, and sandpaper-like in texture. Cold all the way through and frozen into place.
Perhaps he and the very trees that guarded the forests weren't so different from each other after all. Two completely different life forms, two completely different lives, and yet, they were similar.
He ventured into the woods when he could no longer bear staying with his mate. It was where he went before he broke before her eyes. He could unwind here, think here, and breathe here. He found peace living as far and as deep into the woods as he could go.
But he knew his past would catch up to him eventually. He knew he would have to come face to face with it sooner rather than later, and he was terrified of it.
He was a skilled athlete when it came to running away from his past.
But like all athletes, he would tire eventually.
And it wouldn't be long before he would stop entirely, letting his past catch up to him.
It would be then he would look at it right in its ugly face. A hideous, dark, scarred, and veiled face that needed to see the light of day. It was burdensome, it was heavy, and it was all things dark. A nightmarish figure with eyes as black as sin and a soul as cold as death.
And he was terrified of it.
And rightfully so.
The scent of soil and moss and all things natural filled his senses. It helped soothe the ache within him that told him that he needed to stop running. But just because he realized what he needed to do, didn't mean it was the easiest thing to do.
He just wasn't ready.
So he let his legs take him to his dark place. The aroma of nature around him was strong and fresh. It was mixed with the frigid air that was from the coldest of mountains which made the smell especially crisp.
