The Vault

nine

AFTER YEARS OF STEEPING himself in the story, he felt driven, not precisely as Frankenstein had been, nor with the same objective, but just as powerfully. "My Umbs now tremble, and my eyes swim with the remembrance; but then a resistless and almost frantic impulse urged me forward; I seemed to have lost all soul or sensation but for this one pursuit."

Driven towards the final killing.

"The road of excess," wrote the poet, "leads to the palace of wisdom."

Shortly he would find out.