More on the Shadows.

It has been a recurring vision for nearly three months. Shadows, riding wild horses. These horses have empty eye sockets, bleeding a black oily substance, their hooves are splintered and cracked. The riders--those we know as Shadows--writhe in their rage, they spit obscenities and mock both Pain and Despair as they clutch at the horses' knotted manes with bony fists. Their eyes glow a solemn blue, almost a warm neon blue. One cannot see their true forms; they are wrapped loosely in thin grey fabric, and are reminiscent of the stereotypical Druid. In these visions, I never see them charge. They hold their ground, with their horses pacing nervously and the Shadows staring mindlessly from afar.

Some background information is in order, I believe:
The Rahkas are the enemy, here and now. They are soldiers, some mercenaries, self-proclaimed Jescuans. Most of them are rather young, as the life-expectancy for a Rahkas is relatively short. Their weapons are as ours are: firearms, blades, uinen asi sartin. However, the Shadows...they are the Rahkas no longer alive and yet not quite dead. They cannot be killed in any manner I am aware. The Rahkas know of the rituals because the Shadows participated, and what the Shadows know, the Rahkas know. The Rahkas have withdrawn for now...and yet, the Shadows remain. Watching, waiting.

I wonder what this means. I wonder where Kassuil and Pavelin have gone. I wonder what Trinet told them. I wonder how Mirej knew to call me James. I wonder if I can maintain my sanity. I need a fucking cigarette.