After completely demolishing Portersville, the horde had moved on to the next few towns continuing with their 'fun'. A few of them now resided in an abandoned farmhouse.
Mab was sprawled lazily on a cold bed. Having no body heat there was no way she could have warmed it. She was as cold as ice.
She wasn't human. She had no feelings. She was a fallen spirit.
And this was what might have caused such a thing others might have called sorrow, but you couldn't really label it as that. Because for humans it was a feeling, something she would never have, for her it was simply a tool. Something she could manipulate people with.
"I hate life. It's boring, confusing, tiring and void of purpose. There is no such thing as love, perhaps the thought of 'love' and what you think might amount to 'love' but no, there never was and never will be such a thing as love. A human being is incapable of love, or whatever you might call it, there are feelings you might mistake as love, but they will never amount to what you think it will, for that thing does not exist. Hate, that is what is real. As real as if you could reach out and grab it. It consumes us like love would never be able to. It feeds and drives us like no other emotion. It is whole and complete in it's evil, but also in it's rightness. It is in my opinion, the strongest of emotions. It can build you up to the highest of heights, or tear you down over time.
It is the emotion that can help to choose your friends, and your enemies. It is a powerful weapon and a powerful tool, when wielded correctly. It can be a man's one thought through out his life, his will, his drive."
She turned to the horde of shadows that had been watching her quietly.
She sighed leaning back on the bed.
She stretched out her hand, eyeing her long claws. She then turned to look at the wall of stone beside her. With a nasty grin, she jumped up and ran her nails down the wall with an earsplitting screech.