He had been watching, waiting, feeling. Yes, feeling. But how could this be so? He had no soul. Oh, he had the souls of old that he carried with him, but he had grown numb to their cries. At least he tries to tell himself that. He never pitied them, never wondered how they came to be his, for his soul had been long gone. For eternity, he must wander aimlessly; no life, no thoughts, no direction. Such is the price of selling your soul. In the long...