Malros Khas' Journal
I thought about ending it. But I witnessed first-hand what happens when you try. Good people, driven to madness by this...this curse... I don't blame them for trying to escape this never-ending torment, even if escape seemingly comes at the edge of a knife. There is no way out though. We are bound to our flesh and bone, even as they rot away to the winds of time.
To others, a knife brings a sharp reminder that we once lived. There are those who willingly partake of this new-found pleasure, carving each other apart in a downward spiral of decadence and depravity. But I cannot deny the temptation to join those in the streets as they spill their blood onto the cold stone. As I look upon my rotting hands, I begin to wonder if perhaps it is too late even for that. How long will this torture last? How far will we decay before we are at last set free?