His serpentine eyes glow with the sparkling effervescence of ruby spiritflame, radiating hatred beyond the fathoming of mortal ken. A dread promise lingers in a glance to sear any offending the burning orb to charred ash. A forked tongue plays across crocodilian teeth, drool spilling from the draconic maw in acidic pools, hissing in acrid smoke. Scales, lustreless and nebulous black, scrape in serpentine rustling across the length of a sinewy body to the tip of a viperous tail. Demonic wings surmount the dastardly creature's back, effortlessly lifting the vile creature from the shackles of the covetous earth. Devoid of rear legs, the beast's forearms are immense, surmounted in sabre shaped claws, tinted red with the stain of past kills.

Varraen sniffs the chilled air of the pregnant night, seeking his prey. The forest hushes in anticipation of the threat he poses, the stars themselves seem to dim, clouding over to refrain from witnessing the travesty he intends.

It was the cloying permenance of their goodness that drew him hence, like the pungent aroma of decay draws maggots in a gluttonous scourge. Through the fog shrouded mysticism of the sacred glade he sees them.

Milling, tense and wary, the herd has gathered together for comfort. The lead stallion stamps his hoof to the hard-packed earth repeatedly, insinuating his control and breaking the unnerved mares of their paniced milling.

Exhileration fills the beast, catching the herd within the heat of his unearthly stare. Tonight he shall wet his appetite.

Bursting from cover, he strikes like an asp. The venom from his bite, paralyzing his victim to instant immobility. Seizing the stallion in the coils of oblivion, he brings the beast low. The remaining unicorns scatter in a flurry of dust and fear-laden cries. The stallion falls to the ground under the weight of Varraen's attack, the whites of his eyes glowing in the night, the terror tangible, delicious.

Grasping the horn of the unicorn, as his serpentine coils encapsulate the unicorn's body into inescapable submission, Varraen positions himself to peer into the depths of the creature's eyes. An incantation breaks the dark interlude, the buzzing of locusts. Within an instant, the window of souls opens, drawing in the essence of the denizen... and he is gone.

Sheltered within the depths of the glade, the stallion recovers from the strains of the paralytic, slowly regaining its mighty feet like a newborn fawn. The sacred pallor of the unicorn's essence is forever defiled, however, its very essence corrupted. Its silver mane is glossless, fading to black. The golden purity of its eyes glaze, replaced by a ruby hue that grows and burns like an ember. The stallion rises, rears, thrusting its golden horn to the heavens and pawing at the air, before running off into the depths of the forests to return to the herd.

At long last I am FREE. Free of the endless void of nothingness and eternal torment. Such delicious, chaotic torment, but upon none to visit it. Pent up and restrained, I have saved up much wrath for those that placed me hence, so very long ago. They shall all pay, far into the reaches of their descendants' inheritance. Cursed and loathed, suffering beyond the normal ken.

My claws twitch for the throbbing beat of life's last measured sounding. Mine ears long to hear the sigh of release. So much time wasted in the confines of the void. And now, so much more time to foment that chaos which screams for release.

I long for the first kill. It has been so very long. I smell blood, ichor, viscera all around. The weak so close, demanding to be culled from the herd. So close... so very, very close...