[As much as Carlisle would like to have faith in his friends' efforts, he finds it harder and harder to muster up even a modicum of hope when it comes to his curse, even in a world so vastly different than the one that damned him to this fate.]

My affliction affects my very soul, and now, there is hardly anything left to save of it. Were I to pass, I would not even die properly. A failure until my very end.

[He hears that bitterness in his voice, his eyes glowing brighter with it; his old wounds ache sharply, suddenly, drawing his hand to his abdomen as his expression becomes tinged with subtle, but undeniable fear.]