Do (not) understand the concept of Madness [SOLO]

[The Madness]

please please let me go i need to get out of here, this is eternal suffering

The silent wailing echoed trough the moonlit plains, it's only companion in sound being the clanking armor of the walking dead. He didn't bother trying to silence up the wailing shade. There was no reason to bother. It would never stop it's wailing, no matter how much he would try and order it to, it was too deep in it's own searing pain. He decided to simply ignore it as it kept walking. While it's eyes focused forwards, it's "mind" focused inwards to the source of it's power.

That thing was a flicker of a man. The essence of being within the corpse that had still allowed him to take it over. There was no fair way to say on how or why a small part of the man had even clung onto the corpse. Mayhaps it just did, mayhaps it was caused by something completely random and wild such as the elder magics, or perhaps it was destiny and willpower that had bound the small speckle of life onto the corpse. Or was it more like... Mind? The corpse was old and dead by the time he had gotten to it.

But it was all he needed.

For the king's sake, just let the poor sod die already. You've taken over enough of the body and the functions by now that you need nothing like him. Not even for a personality template to take after if you'd need to somehow masquarade as one of the humans.

His voice of reason rung inside of him. Yet he chose to keep going trough the darkest reaches of a mind. He needed to break him before he'd even consider trying to end the little spark. After all, where was the fun if they did not leave the folds of madness broken and utterly defeated, hm?

And there it was. It wasn't much; just simple memories. No spark of personality left in it. Yet he could feel it pulsing with life. Like it was clinging onto something. And he knew what that something was just by examining trough the poor mercenary's memories. His daughter. His poor little mocking bird of a daughter, out and alone in the world full of dangers. Oh, how he would enjoy this so much already.

She is dead. She is one of us; one of the walking. One of the dead and the walking, and she will be yours soon if you give up and die. She would not want you to fight on now, right? She wants her father to come and save her. Yet you, such a selfish being, cling onto this body like some leech. She would be crying now if she knew what you were doing instead of getting to her as soon as you could. Useless. Useless. Useless.

Yet there was always more than the eye could see. More and more that he needed to uncover and break before the spirit would leave. It needed to be bent over to his will, convinced that he was on it's side.

I can help you find her... Just stay like this, useless and floating inside this body, and I will bring you to her, and I will let you explain everything. I will let you have her as your daughter once more, and I will retreat. You shall have her, have her, have her....

He slowly retreated away, letting those words sink into the wraith's mind as he returned to walking. Clank, clank, clank.

The night was young. And he had all the time he needed to reach Lycia.