A trail by moon rays lit

[Skeletor]

Stepping through the archway brought a variety of new sights and sensations to Skeletor. The garish white omnipresent light of the Nexus was replaced by a welcoming blueish haze of dreary fog. The Smooth ever-polished floor of the nexus was replaced by dark and storm-weathered grass, and lush brown dirt paths. Shallow pools of brackish water littered the area. The faintest of moons was visible through the all obscuring fog, but otherwise visibility was neigh impossible beyond much farther than a few meters. Finding someone in a place like this would be just about impossible. “Hmm, much better.” Skeletor muttered, “Not a single pesky warrior to be seen.” Now he would get the chance that he needed to actually make sense of the strangeness he had just experienced. He needed to find somewhere to think, but it would probably be a good idea to put some distance between this portal and himself, lest he encounter some new hostile stranger.  
 
Raindrops began to fall, splattering off of the top of Skeletor’s exposed skull. It had been torn to tatters in his battle with Thor, and he had never bothered to replace it. Skeletor stared upwards into the rain.  He noticed the droplets as they struck his chest, his shoulders, his arms. But felt nothing as they splattered against his face.
The price of his curse, of his power.
At most times Skeletor would say that he had made the correct choice, that the price was more than made up for in the power he had been granted in return. But as raindrops struck his face undetectably, splashing into his eye sockets and nasal cavity to trickle out the base of his skull, he could not answer that question with the same level of confidence.
 
But what had happened in the past could not be changed. Keldor was dead: now only Skeletor remained to carry on his great works of conquest. The Warlock bowed his head for a moment, and the orb of power appeared in his outstretched palm. It was a wondrous tool, and that grinning fool had given it to him for free! Skeletor could not help but chuckle as he pictured what he desired, placing it firmly in his mind. After a short time, standing silent and still in the slight rainfall, Skeletor summoned his hooded cloak.  The Warlock glanced at the accumulated bruises and tears he had received from what was perhaps one of the most eventful hours of his life, nothing seemed too dangerous, and indeed, he seemed to be on the mend slightly quicker here than after many of his encounters with He-man. Nothing he had faced here had yet to compare to that muscle-bound meathead, but Skeletor couldn’t shake the thought that it was only a matter of time before he would show up. He always did, just when Skeletor was on the verge of the conquest that was rightfully his.
 
With his equipment back in order, and his injuries looked over, Skeletor turned his attention to the path ahead. This was not where his captors had been bound, so it stood to reason it might be a place that Skeletor would find more to his liking. This was a world that he understood, the world of shadows and darkness. With his ever-lasting grin, Skeletor set off into the fog, causing wisps of vapor to swirl and dance as his cloak billowed through them. Like a phantom, he faded into the gloom.