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What could I have done? I was helpless. Helpless before the onslaught. Helpless before fear, helpless before despair, before death itself. Embodied in that man was death, a shell of flesh in direct contradiction with its essence. And what am I? But a mere mortal. Human. Him? No. He was not mortal. He was immortal. As immortal as death. What could we have done?
What did we do? Strike him with sword, bash him with shield, burn him with flame? Absurd! Like death, he could not be slain! As soon as he gave us the pretense that he would bend knee, stomp the ground he would, and lash back out at us, charged with unholy fervor, revelling in the bloodshed!
And the horror… The horror! You, you… You cannot comprehend. Looking into the faces of the dead as they crawl from the very ground beneath your feet, their lifeless, sunken eyes!... No, no, I do not wish to recall. And yet, I cannot even wipe their visages from my sight! The eerie, green glow, the emerald wastes that opened up before us, consumed the men, and the howling, oh! Their howling cries of pain and agony as they were consumed by that ghastly green glow! That burning poison, it flayed the flesh off of the men's bodies! I can see them now, screaming at me, pleading for my help… Sol, help me. What did I do? What could I have done? Nothing. Nothing but whimper behind the lines of soldiers that braved through the hellfire to notch the Baron's armour. I saw how terrible his powers were, and I absconded.
Even now I regret that decision. To turn my backs on the men and women who fought with all of their courage was treason, cowardice, desertion… But what could I have done!? Nothing! I could do nothing, therefore I ran! Before my own life was taken! But I know now that I should have stayed and died like the rest. Every night I lay awake in my bed, seeing those blood-stained bodies strewn across the battlefield, the still living on the border of death, the risen dead on the border of life, crawling from beneath. And the emerald flashes of light that stopped men's hearts mid-beat. No, no, I will never forget them.
And I will never forget what he said as I abandoned my allies. That curse, that horrible curse! That fate worse than death! "Even in the shadow of death, none may escape my will." I was powerless, and I fled, and as I ran, I heard him speak in that in my ear, whisper in my ear, as though the wind carried his voice to me despite the distance between us. In my very ears, I heard him say to me… That… That… I cannot escape! Helpless I was, and helpless I am, and helpless shall I be! There is no escape!
Every day is spent toiling under that whisper of domination, under the knowledge that when I die, no solace or peace will be given to me! But for eternity, I will be but a slave to him! And every day, I am punished for my sin, for fleeing the battle, remembering those screams of worthy men and women…
If only oblivion would take me. I fear life, for it is but ash to me. I fear death, for it is but eternal servitude. If only I could be taken in my blackness unending. Then I could escape life, escape death - escape Salforis!
But there is no rest for the damned and the wicked. No rest for the likes of me.
I should have stayed, I should have fought, I should have died then. But I did not. And now, I pay dearly for it. My soul will never find even but a moment's respite…
