Top of the Necropolis 1

"The depths of my being, is it?" said Aldrich. "As in, something like my greatest fear?"

"Potentially. A great fear is not an uncommon core for a Boundary form around, for there are precious few emotions that shape the soul to greater extent than fear." The Death Lord paused. "Or it can be that your core holds warmth. It may well be that it is a reminder of something you cherish dearly, for that too molds the soul well.

Yet, I will say this. I have never met one with a Boundary core that is anywhere in between. Either it is warm, or it is cold.

You, Death Walker, I sense are the type that does not hold much warmth within you. You have the marks of one that has suffered, of one whose feelings and actions have chipped and worn away with abuse."

"And which of those were you? Warm or cold?"

"Warm. Very warm." The faint suggestion of a smile tugged at the edges of the Death Lord's lips. It was hard to read, almost imperceptible, but it did not escape Aldrich's sharp sight.