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unknown to him rested on shelves behind a tall, darkly varnished wooden counter. Philip had only been inside Olivar’s shop a handful of times, preferring to stay clear of things in which he had little understanding. Each time was the same; the various potions and reagents scattered about made his skin prickle.
    “Hello?”
    A hulking figure cloaked in plain crimson robes appeared in the doorway that led into the shop’s storeroom. His face was hidden in the shadows of a deep hood, but Philip recognized him. Olivar was the most rotund man living in Solstice.
    “I did not expect you to arrive so soon.”
    “I make it a point to be prompt always,” Philip answered. “You of all men should know this.”
    “Indeed. Well then, I’m sure Alain explained the situation thoroughly? Where is he, if I might be so bold to ask?”
    “I sent him home with my sons. He was practically delirious. And yes, I have been informed of the situation to an extent. From what I could decipher of Alain’s ramblings, a madman attacked one of the villagers. Is this correct?”
    “Then you haven’t heard much at all,” Olivar whispered, casting back his hood. A fresh, jagged cut spread from his left ear to the tip of his nose. At the widest point, droplets of blood still oozed from the wound. “The same man did this to me. He is not mad. This is far worse than a case of lunacy, I fear.”
    “Gods,” Philip gasped, stepping closer. “Has he been arrested, or at least restrained?”
    “Yes, My Lord. We have him here. If you will follow me, I shall take you to him.”
    “If you need to see to that cut first, I can wait.”
    The mystic shook his head. “There is no time. This shall require a great number of stitches. I applied a salve that should ward off infection just moments before you arrived. Curious that it did nothing for the bleeding, but the wound was created by three rather sharp fingernails.”
    “He did that with his bare hands?” Philip asked.
    “He did. Now follow me. You need to see this with your own eyes if it is to be believed.”
    Olivar led him through the door and into a dim hallway.
    “The door on the right is where I am keeping him.”
    “Are you watching him alone?”
    “There were two other men; now there is only me.”
    Philip tried not to look at Olivar’s face, but did not succeed. He had never been the squeamish sort, but the nature of the wound made his stomach churn.
    “Where are they?”
    Olivar pointed. “You shall see soon enough. Do not be afraid; as I said earlier, he has been restrained.”
    He willed away the lump that was starting to form in his throat and stepped forward, grabbing the dull brass doorknob and turning it. The door was not heavy; it swung open with ease. Just inside the room, a slender man was tied to a long table. He thrashed about, fighting against the thick leather straps that held him fast. Philip took a single step forward and paused.
    “Perhaps you should try to calm yourself. You will never break those straps. It would be better for you to explain your actions to the both of us.”
    Olivar placed a hand on Philip’s shoulder. “He cannot hear you.”
    He turned to face the rotund mystic. “What is wrong with his hearing?”
    “I do not believe his hearing is the problem. You see, there is nothing left of this man that makes him a man . He does not hear you because there is no soul inside of him.”
    “Pure nonsense,” Philip replied.  “The hardest and most nefarious of men have souls, as corrupt as they might be. It’s what keeps the blood pumping in our veins.”
    “Not this one, My Lord. I am not even sure that he lives .”
    “He is moving around like a living person,” Philip said. “Besides the obvious insanity, exactly what makes him so different from you or me?”
    “That question is answered easily, Master De’Fathi. Step closer and look into his eyes.”
    He retrieved a small torch that was hanging from a sconce on the wall and held it