He’d been weeping for centuries. Long stained cheeks, inky black tears dripping onto the dead grass beneath him. The tears never ceased, even the small moments he felt something other than soul crushing sadness.

Viktor misses his life. He misses the times where he could write to his heart’s content in his study, weave together beautiful words about even more beautiful women and men alike.

But then he got into that duel.

And now he was dead, floating around eternally with a hole in his head.