“What in the devil’s name are you doing here?” Lord Scrubb hissed. The old man smiled slyly; the smile crinkled his skin and made his scar look all the more gruesome. Then, he uttered three words; three barely audible words.

"It is time.”

What little colour that remained in William was drained with those words. “No… No! It can’t be! Not yet! Not yet…” he cried. Eyes wide in shock, he crumpled to the floor at the old man’s feet. Crawling to his knees, he begged with tears running down his face.

“We made a deal. Twenty years ago. What’s done is done; there is no regretting it now.” With one last satisfied look, the old man turned and left the house through the back door.

Almost immediately after the departure of the old man, Jonas burst into the room. “I heard a crash and…” he caught himself as he saw his father lying on the floor in a foetal position. Quickly, he bent down and eased his father up. Slowly, he carried his father back to his chambers.

As Jonas laid his father on the bed, he wondered: Who was that man? Why does he seem so familiar? Suddenly, it struck him; the albino beggar by the boutique. But Jonas was still thinking: Who was that man? Who could be able to cause such a breakdown in my father; Lord William Scrubb?