That he'd come back, I knew from the start. In the many years of seeing all in store for others, I felt nothing more deeply than that of the returning of this one man to this same place. Perhaps it was nothing more than the hope of a lonely heart, left mesmerized by his coy smile, his charm, his voice, smooth and sweet as honey. Maybe 'twas simply a wish made on the one star visible that cold, windy eve, as the black clouds came, offering the 'morrow's storm. Or could it have been only a fantastic dream I hoped from which to never awake?

Nevertheless…as the breeze whipped into a furious gale, perchance excited by my quickening heart, I whispered to him things that were to come. Come they did. Here he stands. The same white hair. The same pale eyes. The same ghostly skin.

Could it be that over the years as I have waited, I learned of the Earth's will? Or has it become that I have slowly bent and twisted her plans to match that of mine own? Has it been the trees and the grass, the squirrels and the nightingales, confessing what is to be in my ear late in the night? Or is it I that commands the moon, the sun and all that live among myself in this realm? It may be that after many turns 'round the sun and many waning and waxing moons that I have come to understand her language, her ways. It's as if the world has woven an intricate tapestry, and works endlessly, until the end of time; I have spotted her pattern, and have threaded in my own realities. I longed for this day to come, and have thought of nothing else since the second he turned and left me so long ago.

Here he stands; and whether it is in the darkness that surrounds him and I, or if it is coming from within and radiating outwards from my now aching heart…what is to come reeks of a poison, far too deadly for the likes of my people.