Iktome Plains dead souls and a really big globe.

Artaax picked up his pace as he came closer, his mind still whirling as his emotions screamed for attention and warred with each other over the drivers seat. He let them go for it. He didn't care anymore. There was no right or wrong, no consequences. Nothing truly mattered anymore. He was nothing, and what he did or didn't do was nothing to him. Nomi was gone, and he was a tidal wave, endlessly crashing and rising and crashing again.

He slammed into her.

Kiwi crumpled beneath him like a daisy beneath a boulder. She was tangled in his limbs as he jerked his head around, his jaws snapping wildly as he aimed to grab her - to throttle her and tear her to pieces. Were he truly in control of himself, he would've had her throat torn free of her petite frame already, but he was chaos and rage, and his jaws closed on nothing as she scrambled beneath him.

This was her fault. She had left, and Thur had been too heartbroken to know not to listen to the commanders when they'd told her to jump. It was because of her. Because of them. They had to die.

He had to die.

He couldn't survive this.

He couldn't.