There was a creeping cold in his veins, ice in his marrow, and death in his soul.

The giant that had been shrouded in gray threw off his cloak, to stand revealed, black and terrible.

And it was he who spoke to Wade, in dreadful tones, like knells.

Bent Wade--man of misery--who could find no peace on earth--whose presence unknit the tranquil lives of people and poisoned their blood and marked them for doom! Wherever he wandered there followed the curse! Always this had been so.

He was the harbinger of catastrophe.