The town held an aura of decay. Of a slow infestation of filth and rot. Many of the buildings lay in rubble, the base of the destroyed structures obscured by a low laying fog. And yet, that very fog is thicker than it should be, settling cloyingly about one's ankles, the weight as if it sought skin. Attempting to reach some warmth that it no longer called it's own.

Shadows stretched long despite the morning hours, and even the sunlight here seemed tainted. For all the negative energy he feels swelling inside him, as quickly as it begins to rise, it remains leveled. As if something siphoned the blackness from inside him. Fed from it, desired it, stole it.