The devil-kin emerged carrying the emaciated form of an old human man. His bones showed through wasted skin — silver hair, and a long scraggly beard. His tunic was rotting, and food spilled down his chin, crusted up in his beard. His eyes were tightly bound, with a surprisingly clean strip of white cloth. The man worked his mouth feebly, trying to come to grips with the sudden flood of light and abrupt jostling.

Amidst the wrinkles on his left arm, a faded tattoo could be seen. A white spiral, shaped like a teardrop.