CHAPTER 2 - MONSTERS

Eli sprang through the trees planting his feet heel to toe, knees bent, and his footing firm. Kata taught him to move quickly, while remaining quiet. A cool breeze filled the air with an unusual fragrance as the scents of fresh cut wood, undergrowth, and wild animals enveloped his senses like a light mist. Again there was a wretched undertone of decay, rot, and iron that grew stronger as he ran. It hung in the air like carrion as he closed in on his nearest trap.

There is something in one of my snares, he thought as he picked up the pace for the final few yards. 

Crouching down and sticking to shadows, he crept closer, trying to get a good view of the scene. The form of a humanoid creature hung ten feet from the ground, the rope of his snare around its neck. Its shape resembled that of a muscular man in tattered clothes, but its skin was pale and hung loose. No motion was visible from the figure and no animals picked at its remains. Who could this be? How long have been hanging here? Eli thought, before the body snapped its arms wildly, jerking to life while grasping at its neck, trying to free itself.

Oh shit, he’s still alive.

In a daze Eli ran to the tree that held the figure aloft and loosened the hold of the rope, letting the body fall a few inches. A sense of wrongness overtook him as he stopped to inspect the man hanging from the tree. Who’s out this far into the Wildwood, and why would they be so close to my home, The thoughts filtered through his subconscious as his instincts screamed a warning. Adventurers.

Squinting, Eli raised a hand to shield his eyes from the sun, getting a better look at the situation. He noticed something familiar about the trapped man, he had seen him before. As the sun stopped blurring his vision, familiar features became more noticable.

“Wayland! Fuck man,” Eli screamed, recognizing the face of his old friend. “I’m sorry. I’ll let you down, but the fall will hurt.”

In a panic, he drew the belt knife from its sheath and cut the rope in one swift motion. The strong tension of the rope released at once causing a loud twang to sound out on the game trail. A moment later, Wayland’s twitching form fell to the ground. Eli stood motionless as he watched in horror, knowing the damage that a six-foot fall could do to a man.

Wayland’s body slammed to the ground, followed by his head slamming into a rock a thud. A sloping sound, like a sack of meat hitting the floor caused Eli to vomit. His friend was dead, he had to be. No one would have survived that fall. Gathering himself, Eli wiped beads of sweat from his eyes and spittle from his lips. Rushing to Wayland’s now motionless body, Eli began to panic. Stopping a few paces away, he knelt taking in the sight of his friend’s ravaged body. 

Looking closely Eli noticed that his friends hands were crooked, his fingers broken. Bits of fur and meat had somehow become buried under the man's nails. Grey, dusky bones protruded Wayland’s right leg and left arm, looking like grim spikes. The top of his knee cap peeled through his flesh, bursting through the thin skin, but no blood spilled from any of the man’s many wounds. Chunks of pinkish-gray gelatinous plasma fell free from the now shattered mass, rather than the life-giving crimson fluid. Aging puncture wounds on the torso burst open, releasing a miasma-like mixture of sulfur, bile, and digested food that burned at Elis nostrils and throat.

The sight of Wayland’s slack, lifeless face caused his stomach to churn for a second time. Fresh blood spilled from the mouth giving off steam as bits of flesh hit the ground with a wet slap.  A smooth clean laceration stretched across the dead man’s throat from one ear to the other. 

“There’s no way the snare did this,” Eli whispered, catching his breath through the breaks of each word.

Gathering himself he stood, before circling the corpse. A soft splashing sound came from below as Eli stepped in something viscous and warm. He looked down to see a deep pool of blood around his boot. The chunky crimson liquid seeped through the laces and into his sock, as he stood staring in confusion. 

“Oh, what the fuck,” Eli shouted, removing his now blood-soaked foot from the now ankle-high pool.

The still-bleeding corpse of a fawn lay maimed five feet away from where Wayland now rested. Claw and bite marks covered almost every part of its body. Entrails spilled from a fist-sized hole in its belly like fruit from a basket. The deers dull gray eyes now faced the animal’s haunches, its small head twisted like a pretzel.

Now, this is interesting, Eli thought to himself as a gurgled raspy breath filled the now silent woods.

“I wonder what did this,” the words escaped Eli’s lips in a whisper, just as he heard the rustling of leaves stirring near the corpse of his friend.

Eli looked back to see Wayland twitch, his lungs rising and falling unsteadily. The body of the fallen man jerked as it rose to its feet. Bones snapped into place creaking in resistance as the creature that was once a man arranged itself. Fingers moved, and eyes fluttered open, but nothing was there. No life showed behind them, every small sparkle of intelligence had vanished. Its mouth dropped open letting loose pieces of deer flesh as another stream of warm blood fell to the ground. 

One leg moved towards Eli, then the other. The rotted bones ripped through decaying flesh. Lurching forward, it stretched out its arms, clumsy movements carrying it toward the nearest living creature, Eli.

Moving with unnatural speed Wayland reached a hand for Eli’s throat. His fingers ended in chipped bones, rather than flesh, as if gnawed off by a rabid animal. Unable to react Eli stood unmoving until the semi-skeletal hands reached him, boney fingers stabbing into soft, living tissue.

“W-Wayland? Wayland, what happened to you? Are you okay?” Eli gasped.

Cold, iron-like, fingers gripped his throat, their unearthly strength attempting to destroy his windpipe. “Wayland,” a half-breathed scream escaped his mouth.

Eli looked on in horror as his friend’s head tilted, almost in recognition. Then the monster clacked its teeth. Opening and closing its jaws, smashing them together like a crazed animal, the undead creature bit off a large section its own tongue. Still no blood, Eli thought, before his friend jerked forward towards his exposed jugular.

Instinct forced a reaction as Eli slammed a hand into Wayland’s face, the abrupt action breaking him from his stupor. Wheezing, his vision blurred as the dagger-like fingers found deeper purchase in his throat. He was running out of oxygen, fast. He should not be this strong. His arm is almost off, Eli thought, as his right hand snapped upward, his belt knife still intact.

Slamming the blade through the arm reaching for his throat, caused the monster’s grip to falter. With the small release of pressure, air forced itself into Eli’s desperate lungs. The sound of flesh tearing and bone breaking caused the remaining nearby birds to scatter. Flashes of previous violence to rushed to Eli’s mind, forcing his body into action. 

With a quick motion Eli exposed the palm of his free hand and drove it into Wayland’s face with enough force to cause his nose to explode. Grabbing the man by the forehead, he then shifted his weight forward onto the arm now palming his friends face. While the force of the blow had prevented Wayland’s teeth from removing Eli’s exposed trachea, it had also knocked the walking corpse off balance. After taking a small step to his left, Eli positioned his leg behind Wayland’s. With all of the force and leverage available to him, he pressed forward.

Eli’s momentum carried him through the zombie as he leaned his shoulder into the maneuver. Now parallel to Wayland, his elbow bent at a ninety-degree angle, he threw the living corpse headfirst into the ground. Any sense of balance the creature had vanished as it sprang backward, off of its feet.  Pain erupted in Eli’s knee, as it hit the ground, followed by the full force of the body following it. The impact shook the forest floor with a small tremor, and a crack that reverberated from a skull hitting an exposed root. Bits of bone chipped onto the forest floor splashing nearby leaves with gelatinous fluid..

Leaping to his feet, Eli took two quick steps back. With a deep deliberate breath, he processed an important fact. This isn’t Wayland. It’s something else. Fear, anger, and confusion poured over him. His best friend was dead. Or, is it undead? He thought, his mind unable to stay calm. This, thing, just tried to eat me. He thought before whatever was left of his breakfast filled mouth, the queasiness taking his attention away from the thing at his feet.

As Eli looked away, the undead figure moaned and righted itself, attempting to regain its footing. Eli looked back, went pale, then swallowed, as the creature attempted to plant its legs under itself. Slowly, he slipped his belt knife into its sheath and clenched his around the handle of his axe. While the tool’s main purpose was chopping down trees, it could ruin flesh and bone with ease. The axe’s weight calmed Eli’s nerves, as he pulled his weapon from its home, its cool ash handle familiar and unwavering.

Wayland planted both feet beneath him and lumbered forward. As his ruined leg landed, broken bones buckled and snapped. The releasing of connective tissue sent a resounding crack echoing the trees. Grey jagged bones extended from flayed skin, splitting it like a torn sheet of parchment. Now dragging the destroyed limb, the creature stumbled forward. While slowed, Wayland’s corpse was still mobile. Shambled forward, with basic intent, its good arm stretched outward as if he was dying of thirst and Eli's flesh was an oasis. Realization dawned on Eli as thoughts of what he had to do settled.

 The sight of the smith now filled Eli with rage, as he whispered, “I’m sorry, my friend.”

With one final step back, Eli settled into the stance he used while chopping trees. Shifting the weight of his body, letting it distribute onto both legs, he swung. The heavy iron axe hurtled towards Wayland’s waist with the force Eli would use to fell an oak. The axe connected above the left hip with enough force to cut the body in half. Flesh parted like waves crashing on stone. Bones shattered into hundreds of tiny fragments, as metal carved through them with ease. Tiny strings of muscle and sinew were all that held the grotesque being together. Intestine and bile spilled from its destroyed torso as it fell to the floor. Wayland’s legs stood motionless for a breath before following the rest of his body to the earth. The earlier miasma amplified in strength tenfold as various fluids spilled from the now gaping hole in Wayland’s stomach.

Shaking too violently to control himself, Eli’s hands slipped, causing his axe to hit the ground. Bending at the waist, he grasped quivering knees for support. Forcing himself to take deep deliberate breaths he tried to calm his mind, piecing together what happened. Wayland was a good man, he thought, tears pooling in his eyes. 

Looking down at the axe now laying next to the body, its blade covered in reddish black ichor he realized what he had just done. Eli had killed the smith with his own axe.

“He would have killed me,” he said now sobbing, “That wasn’t Wayland, not anymore. That wasn’t wayland,” He repeated, as tears left streaks through the gore and grime that now covered his face. As he wept, something landed on his foot. Still looking down he realized what it was, and shouted, “Oh, come on!”

Wayland, or rather his torso, was crawling across the ground with one arm, trying to find purchase on Eli’s leg. The ruined mouth still clicked away as it tried to bite anything it could find. Shaking the hand from his boot in disgust, Eli stomped his foot down on the creature’s already fractured skull. The flimsy bone casing burst like a melon falling from a table, as a chunky gray-brown mush exploded onto the forest floor. The decayed brains curled around Eli’s reddish-brown boot, as the creature’s arm fell limp for the final time.

Reaching for the fallen axe, Eli’s movements were slow and hesitant. While trying to avoid coming in contact with the torso at his feet, he slipped in brain matter. The sudden shift caused Eli to stumble and fling the sludge onto the handle of his weapon.

Well, I’ll have a mess to clean up later, or Kata will kill- The thought died as he rushed towards his family, grabbing his bow on the way.

Branches snapped and dry foliage crinkled underfoot, as he sprinted towards his cabin. Eli knew that it would take him twenty minutes, if he sprinted, to get back to his family. Images of zombies shambling into his peaceful clearing flashed into his mind. The thoughts were like waking nightmares. Visions of Kata and the twins being attacked by undead horrors sent adrenaline coursing through his veins. I need to get home. If there’s one, there may be more. 

Stolen novel; please report.

His wife could defend herself better than he could. Hell, she taught him most of what he knew. But she had two children to protect. The more people you have to look after, the harder it becomes.  As Eli ran, his mind raced, thinking of what could be causing the dead to rise. It’s that cursed temple, I know it.

Trees flew by as he ran, their branches scraping shallow cuts into Eli’s flesh. His legs burned from the strain of sprinting for over two miles. Closing in on the clearing, he could see a bright orange glow slipping through the gaps in the tree-line. He sprinted faster, his muscles pleading with each step. The tips of fire danced above the tree-line like wisps to a melody, growing larger with every stride. Shrill screams shattered the late afternoon sky, breaking the eerie quiet. They came from the direction of his once peaceful glade. They came from his home.

“No, stop. Don’t harm her. I’ll give you whatever you want.” Kata’s shouts filled the air, her voice firm, but pleading.

Eli stopped at the edge of the tree-line, being sure not to expose himself. Not knowing the situation, he looked out over the small open space to check for threats. Flames roared as their cabin burned, bathing the area in intense light. All of their livestock lay dead in their pens their throats slit or heads crushed. Three armor-clad figures stood in Eli’s vegetable garden. They were across the fields from Eli, but well within bowshot. 

One man stood nearest to the blazing structure, while two others flanked Kata. Eli looked on at the slight frame of his son’s broken figure. Eric’s ruined body lay at the feet of the figure closest to the cabin, bleeding from several wounds. His face, savaged, spewed blood from his nose and eyes. Unsteady breaths caused the boys chest to lift and fall slightly. The person standing above him was a pale ghostly looking Cloud Elf draped in scarlet robes with a black lining. His left arm wrapped itself around Savannah’s neck, like a python coiled around its prey. A dagger floated inches from her left eye as if lifted by an unseen current of air.

Tears rolled down Savannah’s face, but she stood calm and unmoving, teeth clenched. Her eyes were open, cold, and devoid of fear as they shifted from place to place. Eli stepped back, deeper into cover, not wanting to give away his position. Sudden movement could cause a panic that would lead to his family’s death. Being sure to make no sound he reached for his bow. As he prepared himself, he kept his eyes trained on his wife.

Kata stood before the two remaining figures, a short sword in her right hand and her boot knife in the other. Blood seeped from multiple wounds on her body and face giving her a grim look. She had been fighting all three before the twins had been captured. The sight filled Eli with panic, anger, and no small amount of pride. His wife was a force of nature, she had held herself against three adventurers.

“Hey, Chris,” a stout dwarf-like figure clad in heavy, darkened, chain mail armor called back to the lanky wizard, causing him the thin man to grimace, “I mean Koldun. I don’t see any hunter here, just this chick and her kids.”

“He’s here, and you better fucking find him.” The man’s order came out in a slither as if his tongue was forked. 

The remaining two figures stood waving their weapons towards Eli’s wife. The Dwarf in sturdy armor wielded an odd-looking scepter in his left hand and a relic with sharp angles in his right. A plaited leather helm protected his face, preventing Eli from getting a good look at his facial features. The second figure was seven feet tall, wore very little armor, and no helmet.  His size made him look like a giant next to his companion. The hulk’s rounded, bunched together, facial features reminded Eli of a pig. Two large horns sprang from the crown of his head, curling in a spiral pattern to the rear. He looked like an oversized Orc, or half Ogre. In his hand, he held a long two-handed claymore with the ease of someone holding a twig. As he swung his weapon, his grip shifted from one hand to two in a practiced motion. The Stonekin looked out of place in Scorn, as they were not on good terms with Humans, or Wolffen.

Koldun called out from behind Savannah, his grip on her throat tightening, “I told you, we’re just here for some information and your stuff,” he said while waving his free arm in smooth arcs. The caster’s movements caused the dagger to swoop in the air. “If you would have told us what we wanted and handed over your belongings, this never would have happened.”

The being holding the massive sword took a step closer to Kata, “You stupid NPCs don’t know your place. Just give us the damn quest and location of the Temple of Aeryntorr. Then we’ll leave.” He smiled, “After taking your shit.” The tip of his sword danced in quick circles as he spoke, “That blacksmith told us you would know how to find it. Sent us looking for someone named Eli.” His scratching voice paused as a grin formed on his face, “ Right before we split him from ear to ear.”

Anger and hatred filled Eli’s soul, his hands reaching for the quiver slung to his back. They did that to Wayland. They attacked my family. They burned down my home. He thought, his fist tightened around the bow, enough to cause the wood to strain. At that moment, he knew he would kill these men. He had to.

Eli watched on, ready to attack, but before anyone could act, Kata sprang into action. Her knees bent, like a coiled spring before she leaped at the man with the massive blade. A quick feint of her sword shot towards the man’s unarmored chest, causing him to block. She then sidestepped to his right, moving into his guard. Her movements blurred together as she sliced her knife deep into the exposed flesh of the orc’s forearm. Kata’s grip loosened for a moment as blood trickled down her enemy’s arm, severing tendons. Unfazed by the crippling attack, the man simply smiled. It was as if he felt no pain.

He mumbled at the Dwarf under his breath as a strange golden glow enveloped his body. “I don’t need your help. I got this bitch.” 

The large warrior glanced at his wound as it healed in an instant. Shaking his head he shot the dwarf a stern look, then got into position. A moment later, the stout man with a scepter clenched his relic in his fist and chanted under his breath, creating another wave of golden light. Crap, he’s healing him, Eli thought to himself, training an arrow on the man holding Savannah. But I’ve got to save the kids. He let his grip loosen slightly. Before he shot, Kata turned her head slightly, as if she knew he was there and gave him the signal to hold.

Eli watched in fear and indecision, he knew that his wife was right. They didn’t know he was there, and they were looking for him. If he was to make his presence known the adventurers would kill his family. Suddenly, the Dwarf’s chanting stopped the Stonekin’s wounds vanished. When the healing glow faded the heavily armored man planted his feet and rushed his foe. The cleric’s stocky legs generated momentum at an alarming pace, allowing him to close the distance between him and Kata in a blink. Noticing the oncoming attack she slid forward, into her enemy’s reach, while leveling her sword at his chest. Inches from impaling himself he shifted his weight, sidestepping the blade. Now, parallel to Kata, he aimed his heavy spiked cudgel towards Kata’s exposed face. Lifting his weapon, twisting at the waist, he attacked. The force behind the crushing blow was enough to smash a small boulder.

Struggling with an urge to change targets, Eli kept his bow trained on the wizard while Kata held her own against the two powerful adventurers. With the grace and speed of a dancer, Kata lowered her stance and swept a leg towards the squat figure, halting his advance. The maneuver caused a momentary break in combat, as the flow of battle reset itself. 

“I told you, we know nothing. You can keep what you find here, just let the children go,” she snarled at the oncoming assailant. “There’s no need to fight.” Kata shouted with rage. “At least one of you will die here today.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Eli could see the stocky figure, as he sidestepped behind the taller man, attempting to get into Kata’s blind spot. As soon as he disappeared from view the taller man swung his sword in a large horizontal arc, causing Kata to roll to her right, leaving her wide open. Kata twisted away from the attack,  taking her eyes off of the Ogre to follow the healer’s movements. 

Eli wanted to scream a warning as the warrior used the dwarf’s distraction to slam his gauntleted fist into her face, but he stayed silent. He had to trust his wife to recover, and stay in the fight. The force of the blow knocked her to the ground. Noticing another opening the Half-Orc followed up with a knee aimed at her jaw. Kata flung herself backward, landing on her back, with her arms pressed against the ground. The devastating attack had missed her chin by less than an inch. Seeing his wife out of immediate danger, Eli released a sigh. 

Eli knew what would happen next, she had done this to him in training a thousand times. As expected, she launched herself back to her feet with a deft spring and a fluid attack. A flick of her wrist sent dirt and rocks into the eyes of her opponent, followed by one of her boot knives. Stepping back a few paces the large adventurer lowered his sword and clutched at his face. 

“Fuck.” The word hung in the air as the man roared in annoyance, scrambling to remove the debris from his temporarily blinded eyes.

The belt knife sheathed itself to the hilt in the overgrown man’s neck, cutting off all sound, and dropping him in an instant. He wasn’t dead, but he would be out of the fight. With the man down Eli pulled the string of his bow, checking his aim. You only get one chance to surprise an enemy.  

“Enough,” the robed figure shouted, the floating knife inching its way towards Savannah’s eye.

The tip of the sinister blade caused her to blink, and a shallow cut opened up on her skin. A single drop of blood seeped from her eyelid.

“Drop your weapons, and give us what we want,” the magic-user hissed as he kicked Eric in the ribs. The attack halted the child’s breathing, but he was still alive. “Or, your children die.” Eli saw his enemy’s head move slightly. A nod followed by a wink in the Dwarf’s direction. “Don’t worry though, after they die I’ll need some new minions. So, I’ll bring them back,” he said with a grin. “Then, we’ll hold you down and force you to watch as your children eat the pieces we carve from your body.”

Eli changed locations, looking for a better vantage point, one with a clear shot on the thin Elf. Savannah was still standing, unwavering, while one eye sat closed. The thin streak of blood dripping from its lid pained Eli, making him furious. He could not wait any longer. 

His agony grew as Kata dropped her blades with a sigh of resignation. “Let my children go. We will do whatever you ask. But,” she hesitated. “But we do not know where the temple is.” While she said nothing of Eli, she wasn’t lying. Eli had never told her of the temple's location.

A burst of uncontrollable laughter filled the air. “Now that’s a good girl.” the Elf said as he released his grip on Savannah. The blade still hovering in front of her eye as he continued. “But if you have no information, you have no use-,” The man’s words were cut off as Eli’s arrow slammed into his chest.

Time slowed for Eli as a chain of events unfolded in sequence as if choreographed. Looking down at his chest, an arrow sprouting from his heart, the Elf grimace. A single, imperceptible twitch of slender Elven fingers caused the floating dagger to move as if stuck in molasses. Whimpers of pain were followed by a fount of blood. 

Eli roared, “No!” 

His vision blurring from the volume of the voice escaping his mouth. His hand loosed another arrow, sending it rocketing through space. The stocky figure slammed his scepter into the side of Kata’s face, dropping her to the ground. Savannah’s body dropped to the ground, a dagger sprouting from her still closed eye.

The arrow flew as Eli’s hand whipped back to grab another. His vision muddied as a fountain of tears sprang forth, mixing with the dirt, blood, and grime from his previous battle. He could still see his target, two arrows stuck in his chest like the branches of a tree. With a wound that would kill any normal man, Eli’s target looked down peering at his chest, refusing to fall. Refusing to even blink. The thin man tore an arrow free, a slight spurt of crimson following its head. 

“Who the fuck is out there?” The Elf called out in frustration. Then realization hit him, bringing a toothy smile to the man's face, “It’s the hunter, find him.” 

 Eli’s third arrow slammed into a newly formed field of shimmering magical energy. Unphased he fired another arrow, to the same effect. He knew that his attacks only served to give away his position. As he turned to circle his enemies, he fired another arrow, this time at the man’s head. His projectile smashed into the shield, cracking it. Before he could reach back for another arrow, something firm and leathery wrapped around Eli’s chest. Someone grabbed him, pulling him deeper into the woods. He had no time to react, and even less to struggle. 

Falling backward, off-balance, a twinge of pain erupted in Eli’s back. A sharp, cold object ran through his armor with ease, tearing through muscle before sinking deep into his chest. I’ve been stabbed, Eli thought. The image of a needle being pressed into a balloon came to mind, as something burst in Eli’s chest. There was no pain, only the loss of breath as he coughed blood into his hands.  Looking down at his burning cabin, the strength drained from his knees, causing them to buckle. 

A strange tingling sensation washed over Eli, like a limb falling asleep. The dagger lingered as unfamiliar sensations began spreading through Eli’s body, radiating through him in waves. A sense of calm washed over him as the object slid out of his back in a slow, steady, motion. Thick warm liquid poured from the hole it left, filling the inside of his sturdy leather armor. His assailant pulled him close, wrapping him in a gentle embrace.

“Eli, I’m sorry,” The tender voice of someone familiar whispered his ears. “I had to do this.”

Eli knew the attack was fatal. The thought somehow reassured him as he watched his wife stand, scream, and charge the tall mage. She ignored the chanting of the cleric who was now hovering over his fallen companion. Kata released her fury into every quick step, while Eli watched on, amazed at her ferocity. As she ran, the Elf stomped his booted foot, snapping Eric’s neck with ease. The subtle rising and falling of his son’s chest stopped, his body going limp. Savannah’s lifeless body sagged as she fell forward. No longer supported by her murderer, she fell to the ground. 

The corpse of Eli’s daughter laid crumpled over her brother’s, as if in a loving embrace.  With another flick of the mage’s wrist, pillars of bright emerald light erupted from the ground, directly beneath Eli’s wife. Kata screamed in agony, her body covered by searing green flames in an instant. Her steps continued as she pushed through the pain, trying to reach the man who had slain her children.

As his world crumbled and burned around him, Eli watched with wide eyes. He had failed. His family was dead or dying, and there was nothing he could do to stop it. Eli seared the image of this brutality into memory. The physical features of the three adventurers were etched into his soul. Then, with every ounce of his spirit, Eli prayed to whatever gods would listen and cursed these adventurers. He wished for their souls to be damned, for their kind to be stripped from the land, and burned to ashes.

Eli’s body gave out as he too fell forward, his breathing slow, and the blood coursing through his veins slowing to a halt. As his eyes closed, Eli’s anger broke like a fever and regret set in. No one would avenge him or his family. These adventurers would never see justice. Even if they did, they would be reborn. Acceptance set in as the painful tingling that crept over his body gave way to a cool feeling and a sense of dissociation. His mind broke, as  his soul was extracted from its mortal shell. Kata’s screams were the last thing Eli heard before the world fell silent and his vision faded to black.