Aldrich awoke from his dream, curling up within his body of sludge. His gaze drifted to the moonlight that shone in the room as he pondered the thoughts of what he had seen; that girl... Yet, he was rudely disturbed when he heard footsteps approaching his doors. The saint slowly reached a frail hand for the staff at his side. "...Who is't hast cometh..." His voice was eerly soft, gentle, and yet still a distorted; inspiring a looming dread into the heart of all those who have heard it.