I gave up my life four hundred years ago, for my friends and family. Sickness had claimed many in my home town.
I gave up my human soul for them and in return I was give immortal soul. Not a vampire or any of that rubbish. Though they do exist.
I watched everyone I loved in the time of their dying, knowing I couldn't follow them.
Four hundred years later, I'm alive. And feast on the souls that no one uses, as they had before.
In sacrificing one life for another, I pray every day, that my past in some way doesn't come back to me.
But I was wrong.