A flitting shadow made it's way down the bustling streets of Lomedor. Barely noticed by any of the citizens. However, an air of uncertainty pervaded the streets. A familiar feeling, a feeling that they feared greatly. Something that Lomedor had not experienced in some time, and the lot of them prayed to Lothlemendil and Kieraline every day it did not happen again. An unspeakable terror... Uneasiness was the epidemic of the day. Mundane tasks of the day were harder to perform, or largely ignored.

To those whom noticed the shadow, a familiar face was their reward. One they could not quite put their fingers on. The dull, bright white eyes that looked like barely burnt out lamps. The black, seemingly ever-crawling hair. It looked as if it had been vibrant, and full of energy. Everything about the man carried a sense of power had, power gone, and dignity lost.

The crowd seemed to want to part, but found itself unable in the afternoon sun. A few dark clouds seemed to overlook the situation, with pity, and an air of what had been. What could have been. Thoughts filled the space between each living thing, making the atmosphere thick with regret. An that lone, acrid shadow, which was noticed by few, but felt by all, continued it's pace down the streets it had once had sway over...