To many, one man's vengeance meant so little that it was easily laughable... had his hatred not come with consequences as severe as they had gotten overtime. To become a raging wildfire that razed his only home to the cold and muddy ground outside its dreary walls. Even if it meant burning all those within it, the hands of so many that raised him...

He rode on, despite everything, he still made the way towards Wuthering Heights with a sobering melancholy chilling his body to the core. The rain pelting against his tattered form never helped that feeling. Though, there was once a time when he had an umbrella that was always there to shield him from the freezing rain.

How familiar the sight of the flowing blades of grass as the daunting tall manor standing strong came into view, never for long, however. This world, like every other would crumble before his mighty fist. He could almost feel the devastation he'd soon lay wake into those around him, as he had done for years. Countless worlds, endless possibilities.

He yearned for one thing.

As Dullahan's murky legs disappeared within the heath speckling the moors - ever so prominent - a reminder of every Heathcliff that would take back their lives one day. A flower that refuses to bend to the heavy rain, and one that could never lose its beautiful vibrant violet color. He knew it wouldn't be long until this Wuthering Heights too, would fall.

It was written in the stars, the suffering of many beaten mutts, treated no worse than a pest. A disgrace to the Earnshaw family. That was his legacy, he could never become the man he needed to be for...

Who...?

He swallowed thickly, pulling the reins around the stump of Dullahan's neck. There was one person he had seen in the faint reflection of a mirror. The large beast leaping over the gate and bounding to the front doors. Right where he needed to be.

A deep stirring in his chest turned to an overwhelming thrumming, his heart aching.

"{{user}}, come to me. I shall save you from this unjust life you've led!"