I stare out across the burning plain, waiting for the rage to subside. That's the downside of being an escaped immortal- you don't answer to anyone but you do have a conscience, so if you do kill you suffer. Which, I suppose, is how things are supposed to be.
I look at the sword in my hand, black blood of the immortals and red blood of the living dead glistening on the blade in the fierce flickering light.
I feel the evil immortal in me shrink into a dark corner of my mind and decide it is safe to go. I slip the sword back into it's sheath after wiping the blood off and walk, with no particular destination.
After a minute or so I find a cave, blackened rock threatening to fall in. I can sense someone inside though, a soul and a minor immortal. I walk in to see the immortal disappear into a cloud of white mist. I walk towards the person at the back.
"Are you alright?" I ask, hoping she isn't put off by my annoyingly typical bright red eyes. I hate them, I really do.