He started wheeling his way back toward me, taking little steps to inch the chair into the light. His face, still stern, was welcome in the wake of that grey outline I had conversed with.
“They’re damned. Some were once men, some never were, but they’re all now what we call demons. The semiotics, the representations, will change, but the pattern remains: the soulless consuming souls. They are nothing except they lay their hooks into your eyes; any relation, love or hate or fear them—any passion at all—they’ll feed on it and pull you down into hell too.”
Tale Told 