We now return to Procyon in this chapter. He's really changed from how I originally intended him to be, going from a complete monster to a tragic villain, your mileage may vary on whether or not he has become a tragic villain but that is what I'm aiming at. Oh, and forgive me for not giving Gard's and Procyon's grandfather a description. I feel that I might have gone cliché with that part.
Punishment
Procyon ran through a forest. With his sword still in hand and still in the grip of his bloodlust, Procyon began to change both physically and mentally. He was covered in the blood of his people black in color it caused Procyon to panic. He did not want it to become part of his skin. The red blood of the owl had blended in with his skin there was nothing for him to worry about.
In his state of panic, Procyon was unaware of the raven watching him. A small black bird, starring at him with critical eyes, to the bird Procyon was no more alive than the sword he wielded.
The bird watched as Procyon stumbled about. In search of water to wash the blood from his body Procyon was starting to become desperate. If he had to he'd wash it off with the blood of another creature.
Finally, Procyon came to a river, nice and silent. The blood of his brethren was starting to dry! It was all happening too fast!
Within the blink of an eye, Procyon jumped into the water! The water was icy cold, so much that it felt like a kick in the gut!
When he emerged from the water, Procyon screamed a bestial scream. The blood was still there! He looked up to the moon and in his ill mind he saw a skull over the moon and he heard evil laughter.
This was his punishment for all the death he had caused.
Procyon then looked over at the riverbank and his eyes widened in horror. Standing there were the ghosts of those he had killed, all of them! Standing at the front of the phantom legion was Gard's and Procyon's grandfather, a mighty being who was beyond physical description.
"Join us." The ghosts spoke in unison and a chill went down Procyon's spine. Who knows whether or not the bloodlust that Procyon was in the grip of caused him to imagine this or if the ghosts were truly there before but Procyon only knew one thing: he was angry.
Procyon leapt from the river and started to slash at the ghosts. It might have been pointless but Procyon was not himself.
Once Procyon finished with his pointless action, he was once again alone. The raven had seen all of this, watching with cruel pleasure as Procyon went through his punishment.
That sad savage thing with no greater ambition than conquest slumped down beneath a tree. Procyon had brought all of this upon himself, creating a legacy of terror, bloodshed and death. It should have been different for him, his parents should have smothered him in the cradle, spared him the suffering he was now forced to go through! The more Procyon thought about it, the more he feared death. Procyon feared death because he feared being forgotten. Would death be better than this punishment? He did not know. The only thing Procyon knew was that he had become a monster, feared and hated, his fate known to all: to spend the rest of his life alone in the dark.