Door opening.
Closing.
Dark figure.
White hair.
Face close against his, with eyes that leaked bright blood. Skin like paper.
Old, immeasurably old.
Hissing words. ” what you did”
As blackness finally swallowed him up, and his eye closed, Ryan Cawdor’s last sentient thought was that his nostrils were filled with the acrid stench of decay.
Of death.