The Shadow had a name once, but he only went by the Shadow now. He had a wife and children, but once you sell your soul, there's no going back. The memories still plagued him during the night, even though he had no need for sleep or human interaction anymore. This night was like the others: cold, lonely, and full of unmentioned pain.
"Is this what you want? What you really want?"
A man kneeled on the ground before the gallows, from which a body hung. The body spoke, though its mouth did not move, though its eyes gleamed bright red by the light of the full moon. This was an evil place, the place of the restless dead.
"I'll do anything to save my wife! That man has taken her and I must have the skills of the blade in order to get her back!"
The Hangman chuckled. It was a deeply malevolent sound that inspired fear in the hearts of the Good and Evil alike.
"You shall have your wish granted, but remember, the blades come with a great curse. You will be punished for your deeds, not just in this life, but in the next one, and the one after that. Hell is a place for those with a soul. You will have none, so your punishment will be far greater."
The Shadow stopped himself mid-thought. He didn't like to think of those times and the horrible thing he had done to his wife and children, even after getting them back from the man that had kidnapped them. The Hangman had spoken truthfully; wielding the blades was a curse that never ended. The Shadow had only realized this after killing his family. He had ripped apart his own soul in that one final act of destruction, further damning himself to a place worse than Hell.
The Shadow could not die, he would never die as long as the blades remained unbroken. They had shattered his soul, but had left his heart: This was the curse of the blades. The wielder becomes one with them and no longer has what makes him human, but the pain of being human remains.