The manuscript, a broken-down hardcovered, told of the atrocities. They flew to the guild, the steadiest construction amidst the carnage. Julius and Eira remained reserved for an unknown duration. Words would but hamper the duty ahead. Vanesa held a very gluttonous sneer. The bottom floor was marred by ashes, charred remains fixed into a beg of mercy. After many gentle attempts, the door showed no signs of leeway. Eira impatiently broke through the windows, there, the body of an old man hung over a desk. Two manuscripts rested atop one another. The first and sadly worse lost its ink, pages were burnt. A hardcover binding protected the second, Chronicles of an old man.
"Did you know anything about this?" inquired Igna.
"No…" she omitted shyly, "-I had a vague idea, didn't expect their extent."
"What do we do now?" wondered Julius, "-setting my fears aside, the number of bodies and dark aura in the air speaks of one possible outcome."