The Colors of Blood

Vicious: Dorian

He was drifting in an echoing abyss of shadows and agony. After having finally being freed of the Valg Prince's evil, Dorian was not at his best against the other creatures of flesh and horror. He of course fought hard, but it was difficult to defeat ones enemy when at war with one'self. All he knew was agony from the darkness that kept on trying to control his mind, if he weren't strong of will, he knew that he would have lost against their efforts long ago.
   It was strange to see battle, so close and alive with terror and pain. So different from the stories he had read about in his books or heard of from his guard. So vastly different, and yet so very much the same. As Prince of Adarlan, it was unavoidable for him to be taught how to wield a blade, but, because of his status, he never once had seen true battle. It was now obvious as to why. This war would end in a massacre. Of that he was certain, there was no possible way they could win!
    The explosion shook the ground, like a miniature earthquake or a volcanic eruption. So unexpected that nearly everyone, friend or foe, lost their footing and fell. The fighting stopped for just a moment, a moment filled with an uneasy silence. No one moved, no one spoke, no one breathed a sound...there was only silence...then everything seemed to refocus and sound resumed. Because Dorian was so far on the Line of Defense, he couldn't see what had happened up front, he didn't know what caused the explosion, if anyone had been hurt, etc.
     There was a thundering roar, which could only have come from Rowan, which meant Aelin was possibly injured. His cries brought about a new, vicious passion in those fighting against the darkness that was Erawan. Dorian was the first to make a move, his Valg-Witch hybrid opponent stood no chance at beating him, Dorian had had enough of these beasts. He was done, so he fought viciously.