I have begun to see things. Shadows in the corner of my vision moving and twisting. I constantly feel as if I'm being watched. How long have I been here? Has it been hours? Days? Weeks? I've been sitting in my fathers' study perusing his library. My mother kept it just the same, even after all this time. In life, my father didn't allow anyone near this room. As a child I had been so nervous just walking past, a whipping was sure to follow. Now, since his death? HA! What can you do to me now?

You still mock me from your damned grave!!!

I hurl the book I was reading across the room. The book flies through the air hitting the far wall and falling to the ground. The title glares at me in bright red: AN INTRODUCTION TO THE DARK ARTS

What did this mean? Is it possible my father was a necromancer? If so, what could he have taught me had I not been so rash? What knowledge had been lost? My heart ached at that thought. My heart...? Did I still have one?

Foolish thoughts! What does it even matter if I do or not? Knowledge is everything. It's my greatest weapon and it's really all that matters. It's time to finish looking through this library to find my answers. As I stand up to recover the book i catch motion out of the corner of my eye. Quickly I turn to look, Eyes of the Blind at the ready to vanish if need be...

Nothing. More damned mirages. What is HAPPENING to me? Something has changed in me since that time...with Zamidren Book...

No, I'm just exhausted, that's all. The smell of my mothers' preserved corpse in the next room tells me I have been in here a couple days at least. I know I should rest, but I HAVE to know what my father was up to. I walk over to the locked bookshelf, which I had already broken open earlier, to look at more titles.

Various books on poison making, ritual summoning circles, entire volumes dedicated to individual demons. Nothing particular to necromancy in the lot. And then I spy a notebook on the very top of the bookshelf. A sickly lime green in color with bold black lettering on the front cover: A MISSIVE TO MY SON.

Was it meaning me? It had to have been for my brother, my father hated me. Trying to open it I realized it was locked. There was a clasp with some strange seal on it. As I stared at it trying to decipher its meaning a drop of blood fell on the book. My nose was bleeding. Two more drops and then the seal started to glow. The book flipped open of its own accord and my world went black...