Even with his raider's morales, he knew that much. To kill as he planned to, to look at the human world with the eyes of the predator, and to will such distortions on them, even after death. That was evil.
He walked through the dark, supposedly for the purpose of summoning a monster, to ease his pain, but he was under no illusions – he himself was the monster. He felt less human and more goblin.
The dim lights that made it under the tightly closed doors of the longhouses grew brighter, beckoning him on. He could hear soft voices now too. Closer than he'd expected.