Lost Soul

He who matters not.

The remnants of what once was, adrift in the mire of time. Betrayed by one he called friend, now simply doomed to keep repeating the only existence he's ever known. Some might consider it a mercy in the face of what these monsters have done to the rest of his pack.

The Lost Soul repeats the routine of events that had transpired on the day of his pack's downfall, going through the motions like the bloodshed never occurred. As if those lost in the fight were still alive, he still calls their name. Still speaks to them, the same words he said that very day. Nobody ever speaks back.

Though he is forced to endure this repetition, day after day, he is aware. The lost one knows what happened. Knows that the daunting beasts that pose as pack mates are the ones responsible for this. But he is powerless to stop them. To break free of the shackles they've placed on him.

The demons have essentially muscled him out of his leadership position. Allowing him to persist out of cruelty, or perhaps some misplaced sort of guilt? It matters not either way, as they simply let him be, within this place he once knew as home. Gathering in this place like friends, comrades. Providing him food and herbs when he needs them, but never truly letting him out of his prison.

He will continue on, ultimately unimportant, until the day time finally claims him. Then, he will hopefully ascend to be with his true pack.

Or at least, that's what he thinks.