Lands ridden with curses are often spoken of in harsh whispers. The dead ridden with the notions of their unfinished business whether it’s good or bad. A few people can see them and San Lang is one of those that are capable of doing so. Those eerie voices which beckon him for aid. For power. How far he’s fallen from his moralistic ideals and trades his left eye for insight to the future. He scoffs when another spirit seems to follow him. “Speak, lest I leave now.”