I desire no pity, and I deserve no pity. This is my own personal Mark of Cain, and it is one I have brought to myself. There is always a price to such things, to knowledge and desire. His dark hand covers my face, and one day this mark will come to be paid. In the meantime, I am not without benefit. And I am not without resource.

I can seek out answer in library and archive. I may find none, and I would still have no regret when the great darkness at the very edge of human vision comes for me. I shall walk towards it proud and unafraid, my arms open and a laugh on my lips. Let them take me, they shall regret it in time.

I earned much through my sacrifice, through my encounter with the noumenal. I can see that which cannot be seen, the hidden and that which is not really there. I can hear, I can smell, I can taste what others cannot. And that is reward enough, to have experienced that which cannot be experienced. And I can see His dark hand upon my face, his fingers caressing my brow, his palm cradling my chin.

I could choose to find a cure, if a cure is what it is called. There are those over the world, some with marks of their own, and some without. Shamans and priests, cathars and exorcists. They could bless me, curse me, bathe me in pungent balms and sprinkle holy liquids. They could chant words and sing dirges, and even if it was all for naught it would still be worth it. Knowledge always is. Power always is.

I can walk the world and see those touched by horror. But I need not do so. I can always look in the mirror, and see my own.