You fetch a small flint whetstone from your backpack. Slowly, quietly, you trace the stone along the edge of your Shortsword. Holding the sword has a calming effect; you feel like you're in control, for once this night.
That feeling of control does not last long. Your mind turns to morbid thoughts. What would the sword feel like sticking through your abdomen? How fragile is life, that you could end it with one swipe of your blade? The shivering and cold continues as you sink deeper into your own mind.
You hear whispers as you fall asleep. You try to convince yourself that it's just a dream but the whispers are getting louder. The Phantom that haunts this cave is speaking maddening thoughts. The last thing you remember are feverish dreams of dying in Kingswall, over and over -- a terrifying nightmare from which you never wake.