The white, or possible albino creature was still a mystery to Morghoul, he had never seen the like of it before and yet it had flames for breathe. No courser would be able to resist telling stories of such a critter. The little devil was stuck in his mind, it's flames hotter than those that burned in the bonfires at the gatherings on the surface. He began to think that maybe it was a figment of his imagination, the mushrooms at his hooves were not scorched like he thought they would be, though they did refuse to glow again like the surrounding shrooms.

Morghoul took a step forward through the space, finally past the dreadful copy cat. The tunnel itself was beautiful, but there was no way in hell that he would willingly stay here after that. Around the bend there was a darker bit of rock, a shadow hiding a large pile of what looked like possibly a grave. It.. felt like he needed to be there. As if summoned, Morghoul took careful steps towards the ominous cairn, his ears lieing flat against his head. However the closer he got, the better he felt. Under the rocks he could see a bit of wood and metal, and he knew he had found yet another chest.

The stallion began digging, gilt hooves cracking down on heavy slabs before giving way to his weight. The chest remained unharmed, and he couldn't look away. Morghoul grabbed the latch with his lips and opened the box. Bloodstained silver satin met his gaze, and perched upon it was an immaculate golden crown. His eyes were glued to it, it was a dainty thing, almost a fine wire crown instead of a piece meant to survive a blow. There were no gems, no other metals, only pure skill in how the wire was woven, like the filigree on some coursers and lace pieces the wizard sometimes had. 

Morghoul's head had already lowered to accept the crown, he felt no hesitation.. yet something was amiss... The crown had begun, melting? Pieces of the golden crown had started drooping, but not naturally. Some of them rose to meet his ears, his face, and others drifted in their own way. He attempted to retreat, to keep his head out of the weird metal. Morghoul finally realized what had been wrong, he had been charmed by the damn thing, his body refused his command to back off as the crown slowly dipped over his ears and settled on his face.

Once the crown had seated itself, he was free to move again. Morghoul ripped himself back away from the cairn, landing half sideways down the path forward. He shook himself and blindly charged down the tunnel, wanting the damned crown off of him!

It was hours before he calmed himself, lungs heaving and flanks soaked, Morghoul began to accept that the stupid crown was stuck on him. But the crown sensed his body had been pushed a little too far, it could tell Morghoul was hungry, and needed sustenance soon. The crown started to ooze, and dripped down the courser's face to his mouth. Morghoul began to panic again, this wasn't something he could fight off, nor something he could escape from. He could feel the hunger radiating off the crown, his own hunger. Once it reached its destination, the liquid forced itself inside Morghoul's jaws. And in finding what it wished for, the crown solidified itself onto the four canine teeth.

It wasn't hard to feel what it had done, when it finally stopped writhing in his mouth Morghoul took the opportunity to feel what was going on with his tongue. It seemed the crown had been a weapon in disguise, as four shiny, golden fangs had formed around his canines. This weapon came at a cost however, one that Morghoul was soon to learn. For now though, it was behaving, no longer moving around and freaking him out. 

A small something followed the courser, lingering in the shadows from the mushroom tunnels.