Days would pass with out any sign of life. The wind whistled through the empty base, its passage changed by the recent conflict, yet somehow there was a lingering sense of malaise, of darkness. Forcefully the ground trembled as if the very mountain was trying to pull out its roots and walk away. Then a single purple clad gauntlet punched through the ice and snow which many had thought had become his tomb.
The fingers opened and closed as if seeking a scent in the air before clenching into a fist. Once more the ground shook, the earth rumbled and burst forth, as Daxton emerged like some hell born god from the pits of hell. His armor was rent, the face plate shattered, wounds gaping to the point of seeing the bone underneath. Yet, his eyes were burning bright orange with the hint of madness.
So much power! The crystal was right! Darren was the weapon he was seeking all this time. Now that the Dark Heart has been unleash, it would not be allowed to contained once more. It was only a matter of time before the Dark Heart would consume him in madness and Daxton would be there, waiting, watching, nurturing. Darkness will triumph! Laughing madly to himself, he began a slow and painful walk to where his ship was cloaked. He had much work ahead of him.