Sanity (??? POV)

The hunter was struggling.

Not to follow his quarry, oh no. That was simple. The struggle was in his head. A voice warred with his instincts. He was sent to hunt, and so he must, and yet this voice, it speaks to him. Claims he’s something greater than the hunter.

The voice, so familiar, still tugged at his thoughts, like a lingering headache. At times it would rant and rave, making little sense. Other times it was a whisper, barely noticeable, and yet insistent. It spoke to him, in sibilant tones, in the dark of night.

“…more than a monster…”

“…we were once pure…”

“…my lost child…”

“…find the key…”

The last resonated strangely with him. The key. What is that? A key to what? Unimportant. Hunt. Soon.

The hunt has gone long, trailing his mark. He can sense the end approaches, so patience must hold. He has hunted lesser beasts to stave off the killing urge, though it has marked his passage to those who would know to look. However, as time has gone on, his thoughts have gained…clarity? Lucidity? Distant, fuzzy memories. Memories of being beholden to none, and revered by many.

The hunter growls, shaking aside the thoughts, pushing away the whispers, focusing on the orders from the silver one, burned into his mind. Complete the hunt. Return to blessed sleep. Hide away and return to nothing. Somehow, that’s comforting.

Now, there is quiet. The sounds and scents of his quarry’s mating have subsided. That means rest. The hunter knows his quarry is formidable, and will require a fully rested attack. The hunter relishes the challenge, and settles in to rest. The voice and his orders still war within him, but for now, he can ignore it.