He could no longer fool himself. Slowly, with infinite weariness, Aiden closed the leather-bound book. This was the end. He could no longer bear it. The books he loved so much could not push away the stark, raw loneliness of his existence. The study was lined with books, floor to ceiling on three of the four walls of the room. He had read every one, committed a great many to memory over the centuries. They no longer provided solace for his mind. The books fed his intellect but broke his heart.

He could not sleep either.

It was midday but he couldn't sleep, and he didn't know why.

Another effect...