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Styx's mind was blank, his steps timed and taking him closer to the shore in a steady tap-e-de-tap-e-de-tap motion. He heard his name, another distant memory? He had heard his name so often that now it seemed to echo everywhere he went. Just as he thought that he saw a figure appear before him, a beautiful mare with a shining white pelt and tiny little wings upon her head, she looked so sad that it nearly broke what remained of his heart.

Amelia.....

The ghost from his past opened its mouth, then looked so sad that his heart nearly broke again. No words came out, never again could he hear the laughter of her voice or the melody of her voice- he could never hold her, never see her happy, never do anything.... despite the voices that tormented him constantly he never heard her, sometimes he felt that his mind knew it would punish him more by not allowing him to. It was right, the pain of seeing her ghost but nothing more was agony.

Especially since it had been Styx who had ended the mares life, stained her white pelt in her own delicious blood. Styx licked his lips, her blood had been so delicious that no other had ever come close to it. He frown, how could he still be thinking about her blood when the very torment of her death threatened to destroy him.

"I'm sorry Amelia," he said as he once again made his way to the shore. He didn't look back, fearing the ghost would affect him even more. No.... Styx just walked, head down and heart racing in sorrow. "...so very sorry...,"

One word broke through the darkness. Nessie. Who was Nessie?

He had no memories of such a name, no memories of the torment he had ever brought a creature by that name. Curious he turned around. The dark creature he had a brief memory of seeing was there. Had his mind simply made up a name for it? What had done to it? Was it terrible? Would he now relive it every moment of every day like he did his other victums.

Playing along with his imagination his barked out, "I know not the name Nessie!"

Styx stood still, not too far from the shore but not too close that the mer would be unable to swim.

"Why do you dare order me? I am not your puppet but the puppet of the Gods. Only they have command over me." Something snapped within him, he hated the Gods, the very mention of them made him want to kill and destroy.... he would only listen to them directly, if this creature claimed to be a follower or servant of them he would rip her neck out... ghost or not!

"I didn't command...." He repeated, growling through his teeth as looked at this creature that took the name Nessie. There was a pause, a pause where Styx simply watched and waited. Counting his breaths in and out, for many such an action would have been relaxing but for Styx it was a frustrating act.... remembering each of the numbers was often a challenge. One-Two-Three-Four-Six-Seven-Twelve-Fifteen-Sixteen-Twenty...... "You are a female.... all females are bossy!" He spat it out almost like a curse. Anger building, especially given the fact he was sure he had missed some numbers out but had little knowlegde or which ones or where... yet his memory tugged and mocked him.

Sighing he looked the creature over. "What do you want with me beast?" Asked, commanded it made little difference. To be called meant to be needed for something, and often Styx did NOT like what he was asked or commanded to do.

His tail trashed in the water, the haze of darkness a nearly complete blanket before his eyes, so thick and dark that it clung to him like a second pelt.

He spat out a curse so foal his lips were left in a snare, he repeated her words. "To know me? To know me is to have power over me... and the fact that you are here means you already know more than you should." A hiss left his lips, long and fierce as she watched with an intense gaze. He would not let the Gods win, he would not let his curse consume him.... yet the truth was he had no control over it, just as he had no control over his own mind.

He flailed in the water again, a scream of agony and pain worked its way out of his mouth to echo in the emptiness around them. The night answered his cry by raining. The droplets struck him again and again without little impact. Such soft taps were easy to ignore. He stilled though. Pausing and looking up the moon that was quickly becoming shrouded by thickening rainclouds. "Leave me..." He begged, though part of him was more talking to the Gods than the creature before him. Again he said, "...please leave me...."

When she asked the question Styx nodded and silently walked away. He was sick of these games, sick of the endless cycle of cat and mouse... he wanted to be alone, to feel the true silence that was welcomed with death.

So he left...