She had nearly died. He felt no joy or complacency in the thought, and for some reason, this was strange. Normally, Hybrid saw domination as a form of strength: the ability to murder, the ability to harm, the ability to fuck. But he felt nothing. He did not hate her, nor did he resent the one who had interrupted their fight. No. That was a lie. He resented them. But not the woman. If anything, the fight set him at ease, instilled within him a certain kind of calmness he had never experienced before. It was strange. Being devoid of any emotions, even if the only ones he had ever known were anger, spite and lust. Perhaps there were more. Maybe all seven of the deadly sins. Perhaps he had known more. But it did not matter now. Even if he had known them for a time, he knew them no longer. Not now, at least.

He could feel his pulse slow, a weary, down-trodden creature trying to make its escape through the mud and sludge. It would not (could not?) survive such a journey.

Hybrid sat down.

He looked around, taking a moment to honestly evaluate his surroundings. He was not sure where he was. He had journeyed south from Inferni, turned west, then continued south. He was no longer in Arachnea's Revenge, not quite in the territory known as Whisper Beach, and just barely inching across the border of Shattered Coast. But he did not know this. All he knew was that the trees were swaying gently, gently in the wind and he was not. He was sitting solidly on the ground, dark eyes seeking out every small detail around him. There was both nothing and everything to see. Such oxymorons -- such paradoxes -- ruled his life. He was both a killer and a saviour, a devout knight to a great cause and the very plague that swept across a nation. And yet -- he felt -- something.

He frowned. A pause. A silent exhale, a quiet whisper. The trees shifted again. Hybrid remained. Solid. Sitting, watching. Nothing. It reminded him of the lighthouse, with the broken bodies and dismembered limbs. He smiled. It had been beautiful. Whimsical. Envy.