The fierce stallion reared back, golden eyes blazing, teeth bared and ear pinned against his head. His shrill cry of challenge rang through the wasteland that was the Darkened Land. His hooves dropped heavily with a sound like thunder upon the stony ground. His head tossed as his horn was lowered against his enemy.
And then there was stillness, as the opponents gauged each other, waiting for the first to attack. The stallion's breath came in great puffs, only his heaving flanks proof that he was not a statue but a creature of flesh and blood....
And maddened mind.
He called himself Fate, as he liked to think of himself as the one thing one could not avoid in life. Just as one could not challenge fate and win. What his real name was, he never told anyone, nor did he ever speak of his past, one which must have been terrible indeed to have created a fury such as this.
As with most creatures here, Fate was drawn by the aura of the Land. Drawn by the death and pain that filled this place, and the evil that seeped from the soil. He seemed to feed off the atmosphere, drawing in the darkness as a kind of energy which he could unleash at times like this.
His opponent struck.
With a swiftness unexpected from an equine his size, he twisted to one side, hind hooves flying out to make contact with his opponent. The dull thud was followed by a satisfying crack as the bone was fractured, and then shattered.
But his opponent was made of tougher stuff, and a few broken bones would not stop it. It landed on clawed feet, and with a hiss launched another attack. This time Fate dropped his head, but did not use his horn as the creature had expected, instead he made use of the spines which grew from his neck. Nearly hidden by his mane, his adversary had not seen them, and howled with pain as they torn into its flesh.
His enemy was now broken and bleeding, but still it hungered, and now it hated. Again Fate waited for the next attack. It was slow and clumsy and the stallion easy crushed the creature to the ground. His forehoof paused momentarily above his opponent's head, preparing to crush its skull and kill it. The creature glared up at the stallion, helpless but still snarling. Fate looked at its damaged body and gave a satisfied nod. The last thing his adversary saw was the flaming sun upon the black stallion's hide.
He left the creature with its life, not because he had felt mercy, quite the opposite. One does not suffer in death. He wanted the creature to know pain for having sought to take him on, to think that he might succeed against one such as himself. He did not accept foolish arrogance in others.
Besides, if that creature manages to survive its wounds, Fate was likely to encounter it again, somewhere within the Darkened Land. And when he did, the fight should be that much more interesting, as his opponent would then be driven by revenge.
He wondered how many times he would be able to battle this adversary, and beat him down, before it was crushed before him. He strode quietly across the dead lands, seeking another unsuspecting being who was about to come face to face with his own Fate.