Author's Notes: Ten down, forty to go. Special thanks to Wolfe for reviewing so diligently.



Xaldin watches the strange woman from afar; she throws furtive glances over her shoulder as she darts into the graveyard. He's away the castle, prowling the bleak streets of Halloweentown. Anyone that dared to stop him tonight would've suffered the sting of his lances.

Xaldin floats a distance behind her and dives behind a huge, weathered gravestone.

She kneels into the dirt and lets out a deafening sob.

He's studied her for weeks. He knows that she mourns over unrequited love.

Her weakness sickens Xaldin. She spends yet another night on her bony knees, crying.

A perfectly good heart—wasted.