(This one is different.)

(Nonsense. They are all the same - wanting, needy little creatures. We have seen the soul of this one; he is no different.)

(But he is. He held back from even us. Who is he who can disguise his nature from one so powerful as ourselves?)

(It does not matter. He is growing tiresome - we should take him before he seeks to defeat us further.)

(Agreed. Let us begin our hunt.)

I'm still alive.

At this point, I honestly don't know whether to be happy at that or terrified. I've survived this long... I suppose that's something to be proud of. I've bought the people back home some time. No matter how I meet my end here, I'm a hero to them.

As though it matters anymore. Right now I'd like nothing more than to just get the hell out of here. I can't, of course... I have nowhere left to go. I sure can't go home - He would follow me.

I'm shivering, I notice. It's surprisingly cold in the catacombs, and the filthy rag that remains of my blanket is providing nothing in the way of warmth. The ground just keeps leaching heat away....

Should I even get up? Should I play these games for another day? My head hurts, and my eyes feel like they've webbed shut - some infection that leaves them gummed up in the mornings I guess. I'm pretty sure that, if I do decide to get up, I'll most likely spend the next half hour or so in the corner, retching. That'll go on throughout the entire day. The elders who assured me that the wrath of the dead was a myth should see me now. Sure, there aren't skeletons trying to decapitate me, but this sickness seems just as likely to kill me, if a little more slowly.

Oh yes, the dead are here, buried in the catacombs under the city. I have no idea what purposes these passageways once served, but one of them certainly was that of a graveyard. My current room is tight, cramped, wet, and musty, but it was the best I've found so far. After all, last night was the first night I didn't have to sleep with a corpse.

I get up, and immediately regret the decision. I stumble to the ground almost immediately, unable to stand on my feet for any length of time. My ears hurt, and my eyes still won't open. I lay on the floor of this room, trying to keep my stomach settled and failing miserably.

How long have I been like this? I don't remember falling ill... until He came, that is.

Him. He's the reason I'm here, I reflect bitterly. But I don't want to think about it... if I'm going to get up, I can't even let my mind wander in that direction. If I thought too long about it, I'd just sit in the corner and scream until He came to end my life.

(Look at me.)

I let out an involuntary yelp and try to crawl toward the edge of the room. That voice! It's always with me now, even when He isn't. His words won't leave my mind, no matter how much I try to forget - no matter how much I want to forget.

(Look at me!)

My eyes make an unsettling squishing noise as I shut them further and push myself against the wall. I can remember it like it was yesterday... I remember the day I saw Him, the day He made me see Him. I don't want to think about it anymore, I just need to stop thinking about it. I want to let it go...

But I can't.

Slowly, I open my eyes. It's not painful, though my vision is disturbingly red for a few moments. The torch has nearly burnt out, though there is no shortage. Whoever abandoned these catacombs left plenty just lying about. I can still see, though since the day I saw Him I wonder just how much a blessing that really is.

I sit up, taking a great deal of time in doing so. Time is the one thing I have plenty of - I could simply sit here and stare at the torch all day, and nothing would happen to me. On those days where the fever is too strong for me to think clearly, that's often exactly what I do. Today, though, I'm lucid enough to do some walking. After I stand up, of course. Supposing, of course, that I manage to do so.

I wonder why I keep this up... why I even bother to keep walking through these catacombs. I've long since lost my way - for all I know, I'm leading Him right back to where I came. By now all my people are gone from that place, so it likely wouldn't matter, but I have my orders. I'm supposed to drive Him away.

I can't help laughing - if the dry rattle that my lungs manage can be called a laugh. It seems so ludicrous after what I've seen... drive Him away. As though that's in my power! Hell, as though that's in anyone's power.... I should give up, and die here at His hand. He would do it, too... it's what he wants.

(Surrender to me.)

Any thoughts I had about standing up leave me immediately. Instead, I violently shut my eyes and try to push back into the corner. God, why can't I stop hearing His voice?

I think I actually blacked out for a moment or two there. I was sitting up, propped up against the wall, and now I'm lying in the middle of the room. I don't want to know why, though, I just want to get out of this place. It's time to start walking.

I stand. I retch. I stand for a few more moments. I vomit some more. Later in the day, my stomach may actually have some food to eat, but for now it's empty - simply dry heaves. I suppose I should be thankful, but it's difficult when you're leaning on the wall trying not to pass out. I'll be thankful later.

My things need to be gathered, so I attend to that. My pack lies on the other side of the room, and most my supplies are in it. Water, food, my dagger - all things I didn't bother to unpack the night before. Water and food I was not very likely to keep down, and the dagger... well, the dagger was useless. If He came for me, it wouldn't help a bit. I didn't even have to find out the hard way - it's obvious. A little bit of metal was not going to help.

I shoulder the pack, feeling a bit dizzy as I do so. I'm clearing up more rapidly this morning than usual - it's possible I'm getting over this hideous sickness. I smile, maybe for the first time since I got here. Things were looking up.

The room in which I spent the night was small, even compared to the other rooms and corridors. When I had asked, the elders hadn't been able to tell me who had built the catacombs I was now in, or why, or even what happened to them. Whoever they were, though, they certainly had no fear of enclosed spaces. Normally, neither do I.

Having Him after you is the exact opposite of normal, of course.

I walk out to the corridor, leaning heavily on the wall for support. It's not far until I get to an intersection. I'd walked straight through the first time I'd come here, so this time I turn to the right and walk on.

Carefully. The floor's descending, though not very quickly. Perhaps I'm beginning to enter a mineshaft - it seemed the only reason why a corridor would start to ramp down. Every other access between floors had been in the form of stairs. Considering my current state, I'm rather thankful for the sudden lack of stairs.

A mineshaft would be a good direction to go. According to the vaunted elders, the ones who built the catacombs had been there for quite some time until whatever killed them or drove them out did so. The mineshaft would probably be quite deep as a result, and would almost certainly lead away from my city.

Besides, it doesn't take a whole lot of concentration to lean on the wall and walk downward. I can let myself rest while I do this.

I stop instantly and turn around, peering upward. I'd moved further than I'd thought - I have to crane my neck in order to see the entrance. All the catacomb rooms either had lit torches in them or gave off light of their own, but the corridor I was moving down now did not. As a result, I could see the light coming through the entryway in the distance.

The rustling sound which stopped me in the first place repeats, and the light above me cuts off suddenly, blocked by an object that I can only see an outline of. My stomach drops as I realize what, exactly, is between me and the only exit I know of.

"Hello, Vanneste."

Pain - small bursts of pain seem to travel swiftly up my body as the voice hits me. The sound is quiet and reserved, but I know it immediately and have to clamp my mouth shut to prevent myself from crying out. If I scream now, I'll never stop... I'll just shut my eyes and scream and scream and never open them again.

The rustling repeats and I see the shape move. I can't tell which way it's going, but my mind knows He was beginning to descend along the same path I had taken.

Some part of my brain shuts down now - the rational, thinking part that lets one come to a reasoned conclusion ceases to function completely. Mental cries of anguish the only thing I can hear, I turn around toward the darkness and flee in panic.

It's the only thing I can think to do.