Dolenamo was on his knees. The rush of life he felt was nearly overwhelming. Strength flowed into his veins again and his mind became clearer. The days gone by without 'feeding' had taken their toll on him. Until this moment he had become lethargic and weak, doing little more than sitting in the tavern and waiting to see what may come next. Now his strength and stamina were restored to full.

He looked at the body that lay before him. It was a young man. Human, most likely in his twenties. He would never see life beyond that, and as for his soul? No rest for it, Dolenamo knew. The Thing had it now. Another plaything to join the ranks of numerous others in It's possession. Among those was an elf named Vara En'seer. Half brother of Glorfindle. This creature had them all and would torment them for eternity.

He brushed away a tear on his cheek as he rose to his feet. Since he had returned he was constantly aware of the entity that demanded these sacrifices at the cost of his own life. This wasn't what he wished. It never had been. Raised on the streets he had no knowledge of the elven way when he came first to the glade. now that he knew he wished for nothing more than to follow it to it's letter. But how could he as long as It held sway over him?

He wept a few more tears for the fallen noble. Guilt wracked his entire being and he found himself again thinking of what might have been. Had his own pride not been as it was many things may have been different.

His body felt young again; stronger, more agile. He knew it would only be a matter of days until he was back here hunting again. Then another would fall to his blade in order that he may live, and the cycle of guilt and anguish would start again.

Bowing before the body of the fallen, again he swore for the hundredth time that he would find a way out of this. His thoughts then turned to home, and to the lady that may be waiting for him. The single blessing in his life, one who knew him better perhaps than he even knew himself. Were Ithilwen there today he would embrace her tightly and thank every god he knew the name of that he had at least one ally in this struggle he fought.

The 'ecstasy' of the death of the noble passed. He turned away and looked over the city of Jhelom. Wiping away the last tear he drew his book of runes from his pack and headed for home.

The mayor crossed his arms, looking down at the body. He had a sharp memory and remembered the face. He couldn’t place a name with it, but this was no drifter — this was a citizen of Jhelom. If he recalled correctly, this young man had been from a well-to-do family. That made matters worse.

Azeron stood a few steps back from the others, quietly taking in the details. The state of the body disturbed him; he had seen something like this before, but that had been near Yew. More disturbingly, he had read about it quite often of late. Night after night he had poured over the writings gathered by his missing friend, Khyrian. The withered corpses, the debilitating disease, and the daemon — they were all connected.

The mayor turned to Azeron, noticing the thoughtful look on his face. He took a few steps toward him, and leaned in, whispering. “This isn’t the first time we’ve seen this. It's been going on for a few months now, but it’s mostly been passing adventurers.” He paused a moment before continuing. “We’ve tried to keep it quiet. If it were to get out that we had a lingering killer here in the city, then there would be a damn awful mess.” Azeron stood, only half-listening. His mind was trying to focus on a bigger picture.

The Jhelom guard stood up from the corpse, his forensic evaluation complete. He walked up to the mayor and they exchanged some words. A report would be written, the body would be taken care of... Azeron wasn’t really listening. It took hearing his name a few times before he snapped out of his deep thought.

“Azeron!”

He looked up, finally, to see the mayor standing in front of him, looking concerned in a way that he hadn’t seen in a long time. Azeron shook his head, snapping out of his daze. “I'm sorry...”

The mayor put a hand on his shoulder and tugged at him. “Come on, son. It’s late, and your mother will be worried if we stay out much longer.” Azeron nodded to his father, walking back toward the street, thinking heavily.