He's howling.

The shadows moving along the wooden walls.

He hears the tears drop from behind his back.

He kneels down in the center of a circle, inflamed in words and pours a river out of his eyes. Now he's drowning.

The shadows keeper, locked away in a cell encased in gold beneath the floor.

He can hear the creaking ice as it splinters and spits beneath the cold floorboards. He can hear them howl and howl. Now he's howling, and their howling.

There's something rolling in, from behind my eyes I can feel it rolling in.

Like a cried choke from a steam whistle.

From behind his eyes he can feel the worst has come again as the shadows close in.