Mandrake: Deep Thoughts

 Being underground felt like being in a womb for some reason. The stone on all sides was comforting, and made him feel safe. It was highly conflicting with the cold feeling that wouldn't release his nervous system. Shadows on the walls seemed to move on their own. Tiny voices whispered curses down each corridor. And most troubling, was the constant digging sensation that there was someone screaming themselves to death just out of ear shot. This was what Harrowstone had become.

The group was convinced that they were almost done exploring the entirety of the old prison, but who knew how much they had missed along the way? These haunts and cursed souls could be hiding out of site. They could be lingering in the stones around them. Or worse, they could be infesting the minds and spirits of the group itself. One thing was for certain. If they were near the end, things were about to get a lot more difficult. The final blow of a fight was always the hardest. He had learned that the hard way.

He had been very quiet since they had met the ghost of Visseriana, and the others seemed to notice. The events of the last day had given him more than enough to think about. Thoughts about the afterlife. Thoughts about good and evil. What is right and what is wrong? Maybe things like this were just part of nature. But if that was true, why did it make him so uneasy? Natural things never made him uneasy. But one thing above all others bothered him the most.

Why had he saved that foolish giant of a man, Greenwood? He was violent, he was arrogant, and he seemed to be a breeding ground for hatred. He made everyone uncomfortable. He fought without thinking. True, he fought well enough, but it was all brute force. There wasn't any calculation or strategy. He just fought like a charging bear, tearing and smashing until there was nothing left. It left a bad taste in Madrake's mouth. But when he was being suffocated by those demon chains, when he was turning purple and on the borders of demise, Madrake's instinct took over, and he broke him free. He poured himself into the act, and once again managed to channel a small glimmer of his former strength in doing so. Perhaps that in itself was proof enough that it was the right thing to do. He could only assume the brute had some terrible past making him so full of resentment and anger. But he didn't seem to show signs of guilt, or a desire to better himself. Perhaps with more time... Mandrake wasn't the classic forgiving hopeful type, but he would give the fool time to prove himself. If anything, Alec owed Mandrake his life. That was the code of the warrior. It might come in handy if he ever lost control of his foolish aggression.

Another thing that was gnawing at his mind was the ghost of Visseriana itself. How could a simple jailers wife become so powerful in after her death? What inner strength gave her the power of spirit to control the fate of Harrowstone, and fight the evil by herself for all this time? It was almost comforting. In this place of evil, at least, Madrake had no fear of death. If he passed on, there would be another powerful spirit at war with the spirits of darkness, fighting the cursed and demented for all time. What a glorious battle it would be....