Read through it and let Me know what you guys think. Should I continue with it, or give up??

BTW: While you guys are offering opinions, you might want to suggest a title, as I don't yet have one.

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The veil over Cail's consciousness began to fade with the setting of the sun. As more and more of those golden rays disappeared, so too did the fog inside his head. He waited, able to feel the heavy weight of the sun as it sank, inch by inch into the horizon. As the oppressive day finally surrendered to the cool embrace of the night, his eyes opened and he sat up, exalting in the freedom from his daytime bonds.
Cail yawned loudly, his mouth gaping wide to display dazzlingly white teeth, the canines of normal size but exquisitely sharp. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and hopped onto the bare wood floor, shivering briefly at its cold temperature. As he did every night for the past two hundred years, he moved to stand in front of a full-length mirror.

The mirror itself was extraordinary, or to be more specific, its frame was a masterpiece of workmanship. Made of wood, it was stained so dark as to appear black. Etched into that wood were fantastical designs, drawing the eye into a maze of intricate patterns each more complex then the last. A true testament to the art world, or to those more informed of its history, a gateway to immortality.

As Caile stood in front of that mirror, he was first shown the beauty of his long-lost mortality. His height average for those times, standing only about five foot seven, he was far from impressive. His build slight, for his aptitude had always lain in the figuring and tallying of numbers. Ever since that discovery he had scorned any sort of manual labour as a waste of his talents.

His eyes were a muted grey, like that of rain-laden clouds but were always filled with a kindly twinkle. His nose was sharp and very ordinary. His mouth was a little too sensual for a man in those times, the lips a bit too thick and soft. His skin shone with the light of his youth, still baby-soft at the age of twenty-five. As such, he was a source of great amusement to his male peers, while at the same time remaining a heady delight to the females. The color of his hair was akin to that of honey, a light golden brown, the ends of which brushed his shoulders.

This image lasted only long enough to remind Cail of the sacrifice he had made so many years ago. His reflection wavered then, fracturing and whirling in dizzying patterns of light and darkness. Eventually the chaos slowed the ripples of color and shadow beginning to reform into an easily viewed image. The mirror now reflected the true worth of his soul, shown in bitter detail.

Cail had become what the mirror required him to be, made-over in the image pulled deep from his subconscious. His height now surpassed that of old, nearing six and a half feet. Muscles rippled visibly upon his now heavier frame, he was now the very model of a modern day body-builder.

With the loss of the sun's nourishing rays, his skin had become pale and no longer shone with the glimmer of youth. While retaining its former length, his hair had become a very deep black, the shadowy tendrils falling down periodically to conceal his face. Testifying to the truth that one's eyes are the windows to their soul, Cail's had become darker than night itself, the pupil having taken over the entire orb. Although they had sunk deep within their sockets, they blazed with an unholy light and retained the sheen of obvious intelligence. Cail turned away from the mirror with an audible sigh of regret, briefly pondering the notion of smashing the glass and welcoming oblivion. Just as quickly as the idea appeared, he dismissed it. He was as fearful of death now, as he had been all those years ago. Willful and stubborn, his mind locked onto that memory and began to draw him backward. Inevitably forcing him to relive the pain that had brought him this dark existence.