Sorey awoke, surrounded in darkness and with a heavy weight crushing down on him from all sides. It stole his breath away as he stared into the void, verdant eyes watering in the sudden influx of pain. The malevolence around him was unimaginable in its darkness and magnitude. It was pulled towards Maotelus, drawn to the dragon lord where he breathed it in like a tree, purification coming through as the byproduct of its consumption. Sorey was amazed at the intensity of hate and horror around him, his Shepherd senses pounding against his psyche in revulsion to the thickness of malevolence that enshrines them both.
He hadn't known it would be like this.
Struggling to rise, Sorey pulled himself up among the swirling vortex of purple fear, stumbling along the grief and anguish only to trip into frothing rage. It felt as though he were being pulled apart as he struggled to pull himself out of the malevolence and towards the exit. Mikleo--he'd abandoned Mikleo. He'd slept enough now, surely; it was time for him to go. But the negativity around him was slowly beginning to seep in, dragging him down towards the depths of despair from which mankind so easily become lost.
And then, in the snapping of a toothy jaw, Sorey stopped worrying about being corrupted by the darkness enveloping him. He stopped worrying about anything. Sorey, in all ways, stopped. Maotelus was wise enough to know when a human's intervention was no longer welcome. He'd suffered one Lord of Calamity already. He hadn't the will to bother with one again.