He was quiet for a moment, halted in his insecurity. "We thought the same. I'm the only one left of us," he said. There was an agitation in those words. He swallowed. A habit without necessity. There was not anything left to swallow. "Our souls became his food. That's what he does if you lose." He stared around. He felt the need to go home. But there was no home for him. It was just him, the memories he had left and the strange older spectre.