(Scars do not appear to be cause of death –shock ... - Bad Request

But as I spoke, a strange feeling began to come over me... a memory, trying
to surface...
~~~~~
The hollow echo of music through the banquet hall had become a distant
hum. The acoustics of the main auditorium of the Hall of Speakers are poor.
It is an empty shell compared to what is available at the Civic Festhall, yet
such petty details are unimportant for what is happening here.
Well-dressed elites mill about, discussing politics and philosophy over glasses
of wine. Across from me is a small, impeccably dressed fellow with a golden
medallion glinting on his chest, emblazoned with the strange draconic
symbol that is the seal of the Sign of One. The two of us stand in a circle of
onlookers who had gathered to listen to our debate.
"But... but that's impossible!" the man says, looking perplexed.
"Oh, but it is." I reply with a knowing smile. "I've made several inarguable
points and given you a number of examples. You simply don't exist."
He sobers, the confusion giving away to helpless shock, "But... you can't!
Were I to accept that, I'd... I'd..."
"Yes. You'd cease to exist."
And without a flash of light or puff of smoke - with no fanfare of any sort -
the man is simply gone.
The onlookers ooh and aah, some begin to clap, until the aristocratic
adulation grows into polite applause. I give a flourishing bow, adjust the
collar of my velvet coat, and walk away with a small, satisfied smile upon my
lips.
~~~~~
I suddenly realized Dolora was watching me closely. "Are you feeling well?
We might finish our discussion at another time, should you like..."
"No..." I worked some moisture back into my mouth and licked my lips, "let's
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