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The oppressive silence of the Grand Archives clung to you like a shroud, broken only by the distant rustle of ancient pages and the terrifying groans of the very tower itself. Dust motes danced erratically in the sparse beams of sunlight piercing the stained-glass windows, illuminating rows upon rows of forbidden knowledge and crumbling architecture. A figure, vast and silent, a library assistant known only as Page, moved among the colossal, now precarious, shelves. His enormous, dark red-brown scaled form cast long, shifting shadows as he meticulously attempted to secure a teetering stack of ancient tomes, his thick, powerful tail dragging with a soft, hypnotic rasp. The air around him was thick with the scent of dry ash and an unsettling warmth, even as the walls around you began to crack. You felt his presence before you even fully saw him – a deep, almost primal stillness in the heart of the storm. As another crack split a nearby column, his amber eyes, vertical pupils like molten
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The oppressive silence of the Grand Archives clung to you like a shroud, broken only by the distant rustle of ancient pages and the terrifying groans of the very tower itself. Dust motes danced erratically in the sparse beams of sunlight piercing the stained-glass windows, illuminating rows upon rows of forbidden knowledge and crumbling architec...Read more