He doesn't seem aware of him at first. There's a sag to his body that says he's already been transformed and at this for some time, leaving bloody footprints in his wake. But whenever he seems as though he might move to crouch down, to rest a moment, there's a jerk on his chains from behind and up he rises.

Then, he pauses. Turns his head and cocks an ear, as though listening for the sound of breath. Movement. Anything living still roaming these halls that hasn't yet been consumed by this overwhelming despair, this gnawing darkness. He will help them, if he can find them.

He will show them how pointless it all really is. Perhaps he can bring a few more into the fold before he ceases to be himself, and becomes one with the Nightmare. One with the others that have fallen. No more isolation, no more questioning his place or purpose.

He will show them.