A group of bandits sat under the full moon of the pitch black night, there were no stars in the sky. They camped in the forest round the fire chatting. The carriage they had been transporting was situated a bit from where they camped. The horses, were tied to the trees nearby.

  Snow fell from the sky, bathing the world in a blanket of white fluffy and cold. The air around the camp seemed even colder than the weather itself.

  One of the six spoke in a low growl, he rubbed his hands together roughly and exhaled visible rings of white air. "I don't mean to be a mood killer but the boss has been acting off lately."

  Another one stretched his hands over the fire begging for more warmth. It was a lean man with a rough mass of beard on his face, "Acting off is a bit of an understatement. My balls are freezing off over here. I thought he was pulling away from the chase, I don't understand why he's still after them."

  The discussion around the fire grew more colder by the second.

  "We already raided the nearby village and took some slaves, at this rate we can't feed both ourselves and the slaves." Said another.

  "The boss is one of the bandit lords, I remember him being smart and ruthless but why is he acting like a fool?" Said the first. "Where is he anyway."

  The second who had spoken earlier turned to face the one person who did not choose to join their conversation in anyway. "Why don't we ask Bron, he always seems to know everything. I would rather follow him than the infamous Korran Hoxshore, he's gone mad."

  Another one said. "He's been talking to himself lately too. I guess two weeks of being in this hell hole will get to ya eventually."

  Another one spoke, his tone slow and measured. "Well, it is hell. Of everywhere I've gone, this place is perhaps the most cursed. In the day it's cold, sometimes warm. But the moment the sun sets, the world freezes and you can just feel death in the air. I don't know how these people survive here but I wouldn't want to mess with 'em either way."

  Bron rose to his feet with his crossbow slung over his shoulder, when they beckoned him where he was going. He responded with cold indifference, "I have to find Korran, wherever he's hiding... And kill him!" The last few words he spoke rattled the entire camp and caused them to shudder in fear.

  They knew Bron had a reputation for doing what he wanted, he was a better fighter than all of them put together. And had been the one leading them for a while now, while their supposed leader— Korran always seemed to have his head in another world.

  Bron had had enough of all what he presumed to be nonsense, if the person he chose to follow was losing his senses and running mad. Then as his first hand, it was his duty to end him before his madness progressed further.

  He could not tell exactly when Korran Hoxshore started to lose his sanity, but for a while now he had been talking to himself. Back then Bron did not take it as anything serious, but the moment the mumbling stopped being in any language he had known he knew from that moment, it was only a matter of time till Korran would die by his hand.

  He wanted to give him some time initially to see if he would recover. But alas his time was up.

  Bron's boots crunched on the snow as he made his way forward, he remembered last losing track of Korran around the carriage. As he approached the carriage which was a several meters from the campsite he noticed something strange.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The horses were shaking visibly, they looked exhausted and their eyes were black and full of fear. It was something hard to describe but every hair on their body was visibly standing up, "What in the devil's name!" Bron tried to keep a level head and analyse the situation.

  He could see from the look in the eyes of the horses they they all faced the same direction, the carriage that currently held the number of hostages they had kept from their last raid. They fed them in the day and sedated them at night, the process was just enough to keep them alive till the next day but some had died along the way.

  Bron held his breath as he turned his gaze towards the carriage currently covered in bits of snow. His senses went on high alert, his hand took the crossbow off his shoulders and nocked a steel tipped arrow in it. Then slowly and methodically he moved towards the back of the carriage, the only sound that could be heard was the soft crunching of snow under his boots.

  Mists of hot air formed visible strings every time he exhaled. He cased every inch of the carriage, the closer he got the more he easier it became for him to pick up a sound. It was distinct and was arguably that of Korran, but it was the same mumbling in a strange language.

  Bron did not hesitate, he slowly reached the back of the carriage where he found the tarps over the back in shreds. It looked like it had been ripped apart by the claws of a wild animal. Bron aimed his crossbow at the inside of the carriage but it was too dark to see, there was a lantern hung just outside the carriage.

  He picked it up and climbed up into the back of the carriage and used it's light to illuminate the inside of the back of the carriage.

  What he saw horrified him...!

  The orange light of the lantern stretched to all sides of the inner carriage. The first thing that hit him was the smell of blood, due to the cold temperature outside it did not make the smell more pronounced outside till he got in.

  Every corner of the carriage was painted in thick streaks of red. And perhaps what made this more pronounced than the obvious craziness of it was the fact that the blood was handdrawn all the place in red spirals.

  Bron's eyes fell down to the lucid image before him, there were bodies all torn apart, with their insides decorated above a huge pile. Another dreadful thing about the sight was that there were no heads of the captives in sight, only bodies. It was so horrid that Bron felt the need to throw up.

  What was displayed before his very eyes was— a CARNAGE!!

  And kneeling before it all, with his back to him and bathed entirely in crimson red was a the unmistaken figure of Korran Hoxshore. Questions spiralled in Bron's mind, questions he feared he would not want to hear.

  He could see Korran heaving and growling, he aimed his crossbow at his back and without hesitation he let the arrow fly and impale Korran on the back. A second later the horses started to neigh and kick like they had run mad, they fought against the ropes holding them back to the point blood was streaming from their necks and painting the snow beneath them red.

  The lantern in Bron's hand extinguished itself, almost immediately but there was no wind. Everything was happening so fast and his mind threatened to lose control of itself but one thought made him filled with macabre dread.

  He never heard the sharp sound of metal impaling flesh, unsure of this he even waited for a second more to make sure. But he was right, there was never an impact.

  The low growl came again and he knew immediately that things were going to happen, things that would be either very bad or much worse.

  He let the lantern fall to the ground and leapt back towards the entrance. In the process he was nicking another arrow into his crossbow and not once taking his eyes off the carriage.

  But before he could fully knock the arrow something wrapped around his neck and squeezed so tight he almost felt his head pop of his shoulder. The feeling was hard like metal and strong, whatever it was sent him flying out of the carriage and into the snow covered world.

  He half hoped a bed of snow would cushion his fall but that did not seem like the case, his back slammed into a huge tree and he heard a snap. He was sure sure as not a twig snapping, and prayed it was not his spine shattering.

  He looked at the back of the carriage with hazy eyes and tried to breath, he could hear a dark chuckle coming from within. "What on earth have you done to yourself Korran?"

  Cold wing whistled in his ears and the horses continued to strangle themselves to death on their ropes. Korran could see his crossbow a few feet from him but his body would not move. Not it wasn't that it would not, it simply could not.

  Bron could feel a warm red liquid leaking out from his ears. "By the devil's arse, what the hell was that?" The wind answered him with cold silence.

  He could hear something coming from the carriage, it was the same dark cackle he had heard earlier. He looked forward to seeing a figure stepping out of the pitch blackness of the carriage.

  It looked strange, like it was human and not human at the same time. He was seeing Korran Hoxshore one of the infamous bandit lord but at the same time he was seeing something else.

  The body was Korran's but was not his at the same time. His face was half bathed in blood, under both his eyes were dark bags. And he had two distinct eyes, the one on the left was glowing and giving off black mist, while the eye on the right looked human but hand a stream of tears flowing down from it.

  It looked like watching two separate personalities in the same body.

  Korran walked up to him and bent down before him, they both stared at each other for seconds in utter silence. Until Korran himself broke the silence, "He cares about you, but you tried to kill me. Now that can't go unpunished."

  Bron spat. "Do your worst."

  "I will make you regret those words." Korran said before stabbing Bron in the eye with the arrow he had shot at him much earlier. A pained scream escaped Bron's mouths, he tried to fight back but his body was too weak to even put up a little resistance.

  As if that was not enough Korran twisted the arrow causing another wave of agonizing pain, Bron screamed even more as the red fluid of life bathed half his face.

  All the while Korran smiled darkly, enjoying the agonizing pain. Like a demon spawned from hell itself. He chuckled darkly and spoke. "Now let's resume the search for the damned flame."