The shadow remembered his life as the righteous king who had been devoured by doubt.
He remembered his life as the worm of doubt that had devoured the king, as well.
He remembered being the monstrous creature the king had become…
And the beautiful, sinister moth that had crawled out of the king's broken skull, too.
The two couldn't be more different. But, for the shadow, they were one and the same.
He had lived both of their long and dreadful lives, after all, so he knew. He knew that the moth had wanted to live just as desperately as the king had.
All living things were enthralled by life, and all living things were terrified of death.
Except for him.
The shadow was weary of life and denied death, so there was no escape from his endless existence. There was only the tranquil peace of his lifeless kingdom and the unwelcome torment of his memories.
He remembered being the moth…
