Meanwhile, back in Sheol, Alastor paced back and forth in his office. His black tunic had been unbuttoned halfway, exposing his chest, which was coated in a layer of sweat. He angrily swiped a pile of papers off his desk, decorating the black floor with sheets of white. One of his advisors slowly opened the door in the midst of the chaos, nearly getting smacked by one of the glasses Alastor smashed across the room.
"Your majesty-" The advisor said quietly.
"What the fuck do you want, Deacon?" Alastor roared at the older man.
Deacon timidly apologized and scurried out the door. Alastor grabbed a bottle of ale from his shelf and twisted open the cap, pouring the liquid down his throat. He took a few more swigs before setting the bottle down on his desk. He looked outside his balcony that overlooked the kingdom, which was growing stronger each day. Alastor took a moment to appreciate his kingdom; it made him feel better to see them getting back on their feet. His hounds lay stretched out in front of his fireplace that sat opposite his bed. Their tails tapped the floor excitedly when they saw Alastor come back inside, snagging the bottle back from his desk. He sat on the edge of his bed, hunching over with his elbows on the tops of his knees. He was unhinged; slowly unraveling by the day. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the look on Elysium's face when she heard what he'd done. His whole life, everyone viewed him as a monster; so why did this hurt so much more? Her final words knawed at him while he tried to press through each day. Did she really think Blaine was right about him? He could feel his mind slowly withering away as he crumbled into despair.
Alastor's head shot up when another came at the door. Zeta breathlessly staggered in the doorway, eyes wide.
"Zeta, get-" Alastor started, annoyed.
"-She's gone." Zeta panted, cutting him off.
Alastor sobered up when the words registered with him. His eyes darkened while he stood to his feet, straightening.
"What do you mean, gone?" Alastor's voice was low.
"Zion came back without her, terrified," Zeta said shakily. "I fear someone's taken her."
Alastor practically winced at that idea, and he ran his fingers through his messy hair, pacing back and forth.
"My magic can't trace Amarok," Zeta said. "I know something's wrong."
Alastor impulsively pulled his boots onto his feet and started towards the door.
"Where are you going?" Zeta grabbed Alastor's shoulder and spun him around.
"Oh, come on," Alastor rolled his eyes. "Don't tell me it isn't obvious."
Zeta drew a blank and thought back for a moment before her eyes widened.
"You don't think…"
Alastor nodded.
"I don't think," he replied with his voice low. "I know."
Alastor turned to keep walking before Zeta stopped him again.
"You haven't let me finish…"
Alastor frowned.
"Virellion migrated to a different territory after Blaise took over." Zeta's eyes fell to the ground. "We have no idea where it is."
Alastor swallowed, backing away. He stormed back into his bedroom, swiping the bottle again and downing the rest of it. Zeta only watched him, consumed with pity. Alastor frantically threw the glass bottle into the wall, scattering shards of glass across the floor. Startled, the hounds shot up from the noise, their tails tucked between their legs. This sort of thing never phased Zeta; she'd witnessed more than enough anger in her battles. Zeta kneeled next to Alastor and laid her hand on his shoulder.
"We will find her," She said reassuringly.
Alastor didn't reply; he only buried his head between his knees and tore at his tangled hair. The part that weighed on him the most was the terms they'd left on; she thought he was a monster. Alastor shot up again and started towards the door, hurriedly running towards the stables. He swiped his sword from the stable doors and quickly unhooked his horse's stall door. He leapt as quickly as he could onto his horse before tapping his flank with his hoof. Zeta doubled over to catch her breath halfway to the stables before Alastor whizzed past her, nearly knocking her over. She stumbled backwards and stared back at him, shaking her head.
Alastor repeatedly snapped the reins to gallop faster, and his horse began to grow tired and slowed to a trot. Irritated, Alastor kicked his horse's flank harder before he realized he'd cut the horse's skin. Blood trickled down the horse's black coat.
"Oh, Xavier," Alastor's voice softened. "I'm so sorry."
Alastor dismounted Xavier and examined the wound. He reached into the bag hooked to his saddle and pulled a few pieces of cloth out. He wrapped it around the horse's leg, sealing the wound. Xavier yelped in pain, but Alastor comforted him by patting his neck. Something about that brought Alastor back to reality. He took a moment to look at his reflection in one of the puddles from the fresh rain; he was a mess. His hair was fluffed, and sweat clung to his back from his shirt. He hopped back onto Xavier and trotted slowly back to the palace. When he got back to the palace, he rallied his advising board and guards into his meeting chamber. The dimly lit circular table sat in the center of the stone room, with a large mad spread across the top. He pressed both hands on the edge of the table and leaned over to examine the map. One of his guards pointed to a small cluster of mountains west of Sheol.
"I think we should check there first," The guard advised.
Zeta stood facing the window, scanning the Sheol territory from the window. She turned to look at the map to see where the guard was referring to. She took a breath before looking at the guard.
"It doesn't hurt to try," she sighed. "We can divide and conquer. I'll gather search parties from Alaria."
She rested her hand on the sheath of her sword. The guard nodded in agreement and headed down to gather the Sheol guards. They would check the west and north, while the Alarian guards would travel south and east. Alastor peered out the window and watched the herd of guards ride their horses out of the kingdom and down the pathways. He ran his hands through his hair and turned back to Zeta.
"I need to go look for her," he said, his face distressed.
"We will find her," Zeta said, placing a hand on Alastor's shoulder. "Get a good night's rest tonight, you look like you haven't slept in days."
Alastor turned to look at his reflection in the mirror that sat on top of the mantle. His eyes were tired, and bags hung underneath his lids. His hair was a tussled mess, and his shirt had been nearly completely unbuttoned. He could smell the ale on his breath while he sat down on the bed, staring at the wall. He was going to find her, even if it was the last thing he did.