"No! You'll not have me...! My power cannot die...! Curse you!"
The lich could only stare in horror as he was pulled closer and closer toward the Black Cauldron, it's iron surface burning hot red, illuminating the face of the Death-Lord carved upon it's side. He clung to the ledges of the cauldron's opening, the winds whipping up around him with the intensity of a thunderstorm... Caught within the current of the cauldron, the Horned King's powers were severed.
From within his own body, the Horned King could feel his blood boil and burn ; his skin began to bubble and crack, breaking off from his body, little by little.
There was no escape from the current of the cauldron... The lich could only cry out, screaming in terror and agony as his body was torn from the inside-out, his soul seized by the Death-Lord, and dragged down into the deep darkness of the Black Cauldron...
He had it within his grasp... He had summoned the Cauldron-Born... Victory had been within his grasp.
... How did it come to this?
He was imprisoned... There, within the very thing he had sought after for so many years... There, within that hell - that prison of eternal torture - for all eternity.
There, he endured endless pain and suffering... He could not rest. He could not scream. He could not escape. He was alone. The only bit of solace he had were from his own thoughts : Of holding the pig-boy in his hand and choking the life from him... The Horned King wanted him to suffer ; wanted to make him regret that he had ever been born.
Hate was the only companion he had. But it would not soothe him of the pain he endured.
His insides burned ; his lungs filled with hot ash ; his arms and legs restrained by heated shackles ; red-hot blades piercing every inch of his body. He was drowned. Try as he could to swim to the surface, the Horned King would only be pulled right back.
He was exhausted... He had asked - begged - kneeled down before the Death-Lord in the hopes that he would be granted mercy... But the Horned King was given no respite.
Oh. How he longed to see the pig-boy again... To make that miserable whelp draw his last breath - to see the light leave his eyes. But these were merely wild dreams of the Horned King. His body had been destroyed, and his spirit imprisoned within the Black Cauldron, with no hopes of escape.
It had felt as if an eternity had passed... Followed by another... And another... And another... He could not rest. He could not scream. And he could never, ever escape. He was doomed to drown in the deep, dark depths of pain for all eternity.
... But fate had decided that this would not be the end to the Horned King's tale. That he would be partaking in another story that would intermingle with many others.
"... A light...? Had I seen... A light...?
... The pain... I... Cannot feel...
... What is... Happening...?"
Like a terrible storm that had begun to dissipate, the pain had subsided, and a strange calm had washed over him... All was dark, save for the faint flickering of light. And there was sound - birdsong, and the sound of leaves rustling in the wind.
Everything was peaceful... There was a soft brush against his face... A gentle caress against his cheek, but from no hand did it come.
Wind... There was no wind within the Black Cauldron... Merely a suffocating darkness. But now, he no longer felt restrained.
He was... At ease. There was no more pain ; just numbness. And a nagging confusion in the back of his mind.
Where was he...? Was this some form of trick from the Death-Lord? To lure his victim into a false sense of security?
As his mind raced with thoughts, the more he had begun to grow restless, put-off by this new state of calm, his fingers tightening around... Grass?
This alone was enough to set the Horned King on alarm... And at last, he had awoken to a sudden, stabbing pain in his gut. His stomach churning, the lich began to choke, turning onto his side and expelling a foul, green slime from his mouth. The ectoplasm hissed, sizzling as it poured upon the ground with a sickening splat... After several long minutes, gagging and coughing, the lich remained there, clutching his stomach with a shudder, his breath heavy and hard.
The numbness gradually abated. The lich opened his eyes once again, and took in his surroundings... The environment was covered with trees, their branches spreading outward and blocking out the sky, save for the occasional ray of light which slipped past the many leaves.
Though the cloud of disorientation hung heavily over the Horned King, the lich willed himself up onto his feet, albeit not without struggle. He stumbled, leaning against one of the many trees for support... He felt weak. Drained of strength, ready to collapse. But he refused to give in to fatigue. With another breath, the Horned King pushed himself away from the tree to stand by himself. An effort on it's own, but he would manage... He would have to.
Wrapping his arms around himself, the lich pressed onward, passing through thick overgrowth, his robes snagging onto the occasional twig, causing the fabric to tear... But the Horned King held no concern. He continued on ; but to where, he did not quite know... He didn't have a set goal in mind, save to find his bearings...
To his surprise, it had only taken him a short few minutes before the trees began to clear ; and up ahead lay a path ; and along it's side, old buildings made of stone... In the air, he could hear the faint sound of music, soft and ambient, and the voices of many people.
So he was much closer to civilization than he had anticipated... The Horned King showed no fear ; and without a single trace of hesitation, he stepped out onto the road... To his left, he could make out the shape of a great, snow-tipped mountain over the buildings and trees ; and to his right, a young woman stood with a wheeled chair upon which a small child sat, both frozen, wide-eyed at the sight of the horned lich.
As was expected... But the Horned King held little concern toward the young woman. Disregarding the woman, he turned his attention in the direction of the mountain, and concluded that he would head in that direction.
The woman in turn had also concluded that she would turn back in the direction from which she came, steering her stroller and walking away with with a quickened pace.