As the time tickles so he observes the strange blue symbols in the red curtain, only to find a complex set of sharp-angled scribbles that had a blue fluorescent over it, but no matter how much he looked they don’t hold any visible power and are held in place fairly well.

The glass that it protects is a stained glass without color but the opaque gray letting only light pass through.

So he moved closer to the burnt library, as the cold breeze pushed him away from the hole in the wall, passing over the familiar rock debris, but the pieces of metal that should compose the stainless glass to hold the last stained glass are nowhere to be seen.

However as he approached the dark corner of the room his feet lost momentum and gradually turned the sprint into a walk, but while he moved to the corner illuminated by the remain ember, his sight was drawn to that deep shadow.

He tried to salvage any of the papers and tablet, but most were reduced to fragment or lost pages still flying over the hot air and this was mostly blocked by the great amber that didn’t seem threatening but the mere approach of the paper was the reason to combust from the heat.

He looked around for a solution, only rocks that are either too big or too small to help him with anything and on the far corner some items that he couldn’t see in the poor illumination.

The second grave drum resolved he started to feel the anxiety building up on him, but he still detached conscience was able to keep him in tore 2 pieces of cloth from this shirt and strapped haphazardly, using the close rocks as makeshift sole.

However the lack of fitting rocks made him strap two big rocks to his feet by a simple knot, the rest of the rags he used to cover his hand. And so with great difficulty, he tried to climb over the ember bolder.

with the extra weight on his feet he couldn’t jump over it, so he had to grab with his hands.

The pain soon followed through his hand, but he and the rag still hold on. With great hurry he moved the rest of his body, using the rock on his legs to touch the burning rock.

When he was about to arrive at the top of the ball he tried to put his weight again on it but it collapsed inward by his touch and the hot air gushed out making him have to hold firmly with his other hand to not fall by the recoil from the pain.

He could hear the cracks from holding what was basically burnt charcoal, grinding his teeth even harder he pushed himself forward as his eyes dead set on the few books left.

When he finally stood over the burning hill, his hand was trembling the cloth his had had partially melted with his skin. However like cloth on his hand couldn’t keep up, the cloth holding the rocks at his feet also burnt to crisp.

On that last step, he lost the balance as his feet moved forward but the rock bare moved. His whole feets are now few centimeters deep on the still hot core of the siege munition. His scream echoed the hall as the muscle are barely held in place by his bones.

With a face twisted in pain and the veins covered what was once a deep black eye into a bulging red of pain. All the caution was thrown out the window and his hand greedily grasped whatever it could in front of him and throw it away from the fire hell he was suffering.

Nevertheless, he couldn’t hold for long, the pain he was suppressing in his throat couldn’t be contained anymore. His feet moved once again, this time back to where he came, but he couldn’t bear step again in this thin hold charcoal and sink on the hell pits.

His body flow with all the strength his burnt legs allowed. But was just for a moment as this hurried attempt of getaway ended hitting his back on the burning munition and leave a scorch of his back scraping over as he hit the ground.

He gasped for air as the impact expulsed any air inside, his whole body contracted as he screamed meaningless noises however he was still trying to contain that pain as he didn’t let himself close the eyes.

Now exhausted from the ordeal he had trouble in keep standing, his long white hair was falling over his face stick to the incredible amount of sweat, dripping over his black powdered body and most of it was burnt in his attempt to climb it, his shirt had become a wild sleeveless rag.

Moving his feet that he was sure that would find just bones, it was burnt black while the part of the bones visible was faintly glowing red, like the blue from the symbols on the curtain.

He gathered every piece of paper he could get his hand, as he saw that many of what he had thrown ended back into the burning fire, but he just cast a depressed glance before going back to work.

But this depressed glance would soon turn into a depressed face because he looked at the bundle of papers and scrap of paper he had and each page are different language some even looked that had more than one per remain.

He tried to piece together what he could, but the memory of the broken cup keep flashing on his mind. After he suppressed these idle thoughts he valued h discover. His anxious face slowly morphed to a rage inducing madness. hitting the ground again and again with his burnt fists.

The total was more or less 72 scraps, few of them were linked to the same style and even fewer looked like was from the same book. None of the languages was remotely close to the ones he knew, even that strange sharp scribs on the curtain was only found inside a drawn diagram.

The only number was the same, but the only equation he could vaguely understand still resulted in a completely different result than it should. Something on the lines of 1+1 = 3. The rest was some diagrams filled with interconnected geometric forms with numbers and letters.

The only two images he was sure was a rough the cut section of a castle or other building, but any detail had blurred because of the heat and the ones that he could see was some high stylized depiction, something you would expect to see a middle age book. There seen some detail of it was writing on the side, given the topical division, but that was it.

As the anger subsides, the pain rushed with all strength squirming in pain for a couple of seconds, closing slowly its finger over each piece of paper he gathered and puffing in a rage he rose bundle of papers high into the air gathering all his strength to toss it back to the fire rock.

However, he stood there, with rage turned into frustration and screamed:

“FUCK!”

Taking it back and tossing beside the throne, where he saw the crystal still hanging from chains over his head, the colorful dots of light carefree circled it. But was just out of his reach, if he jumped he would miss for millimeters.

He looked back to the hall now looking for anything, he could feel his time ending, there were only rocks and broken glass around and whatever was hidden far away in the shadow wasn’t in his priority right now.

Without choice he grabbed a piece of a hand-sized shard of glass, that light cut him when he touched and moved forward into that strange region that covered the right side of the room. Unlike last time, it wasn’t complete darkness like a veil that cut it out from outside, it was now a mysterious but normal shadow.

As the light from outside grows weaker, he slowly started to crouch, fumbling his surrounding in look for anything of use. He couldn’t see the other half of the hall as clear as the first time he entered this place, the previous vision of looking through the end of a tunnel also wasn’t there, or the creepy freezing feeling.

His movements cautious and slow, each of his steps didn’t the same dull noise of walking into the rock tiles from the throne room but the sound of stepping on sand or more accurately a fine gravel and the sharp points that poked at his burnt feet collaborated with it.

But aside from the rocks in the umbra between the dark side and the light side of the room no rocks or any other terrain deformity was found and the memory of the same feeling when he ran away in the past made him show a complex set of emotion.

Guilty, pain, fear, anger and something that overwhelmed all this emotion that he couldn’t put in words.Touching his chest he keeps on moving, was when he started again to see things.

A small dot of green popped in the corner of his eyes, but every time he looked at it was gone like was never there. Then a pale blue dot that he missed for just a moment too late.

This pattern would start to get more common until a red and silver flash also joined.

So he stopped his search, he looked back at the crystal over the throne, but he could make just the rogue outline but didn’t see responsible for his visions. he was almost the middle of the hall when he halted.

Mordread let a tired sigh, as he took his upright position, and turned himself for the farthest corner of the hall because it was time already.

Time for the last grave war drum resound throughout the whole castle and with it, the rusted hinges noise soon followed.