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*huddled in a corner on the seventh floor, arms held tightly around knees, between a torch pillar and a suit of armor which occasionally emits a bored, rusty creak as it shifts in place*
*all he remembers about the last few days are the words that he said: immortal soul, chosen emissary; words that, now, he doesn't understand... and a feeling of true knowledge -- of ultimate confidence.....*
*..and unlike most of the time, he doesn't know what it was that he became, but... it felt good.....*
*..and he would write about why, if only he hadn't lost his journal*
*all he remembers about the last few days are the words that he said: immortal soul, chosen emissary; words that, now, he doesn't understand... and a feeling of true knowledge -- of ultimate confidence.....*
*..and unlike most of the time, he doesn't know what it was that he became, but... it felt good.....*
*..and he would write about why, if only he hadn't lost his journal*
