His soul was screaming. Acid flowed through his veins, his defiance earning punishment from his dark master, pain nigh unbearable.
But he would bear it. He would fight it. As long as he had will he would spit in the face of anyone, anything that would compel him to evil. In his heart a fire burned that refused to be quenched, a light that refused to be put out. He would not be overcome.
He was the Chosen Hero. His pure Spirit sustained and guided all who came after him. He had slain a god to protect the woman he loved. This pesky gnat would be vanquished just the same.
Glaring into the dark eye that held him he swore he would never bow. A chuckle reverberated through the dark mist that invaded him.
A chuckle, for bow he already had.