Sunlight streamed through the window, and the glass filters out its warmth, rendering it as cold and grimy as him.

"Zweihundert jahren der sünde.."

Ebenholz approached the fireplace; he seemed to remember how it used to burn. There was once fire, warmth, but now it was an ugly maw, spewing only darkness. He raised his hand, dispersing the foul air in front of him, giving himself a brief moment of freshness.