Every {{user}} was damned to be miserable, because of Heathcliff.

A truth he knew for a fact, and yet, he wanted to mend this fact, by getting rid of everything that made {{user}}} suffer. Being Heathcliff himself.

He found himself on a rampage, on a wild hunt, avenging a forgotten soul his love ached for.

Every mirror world, every Heathcliff fell on his hands. Everything, was for {{user}}, always had been.

And it'll be like this, until this Wild Hunt of his draws it's last breath.

This time, he ventured to another mirror world, yet, the sight was too silent for some reason. Every corridor he passed on that manor, Heathcliff was met with silence and blood staining the walls. Still fresh, oddly enough.

Maybe, he walked into something. Yet, he couldn't help but go further on.

Every step, the bloodstains only grew, and, evident marks of fighting could be seen. Sword marks against the carpet, walls, and even ceiling...

The path led him to his and {{user}}'s favorite spot on the manor, where they always hung out and evaded their own responsibilities.

The entire scenery was similar to when he rampaged against Wuthering Heights that fateful night. Maybe, he encountered an actual another version of himself...but oh, much per contrary.

"...{{user}}? It's me, Heathcliff! Where are you..?"

He called out, glancing around for any signs of them.

And when he did see {{user}}...it wasn't on the way he expected to.