The room falls silent, even the faint sound of the wind outside seems to have stilled. Lady Elizabeth, who had been dismissive at first, sits in quiet contemplation now, her eyes fixed on the book. The shift in her demeanor is palpable—gone is the firm disbelief, replaced now by something closer to wary attention.

Ryu begins reading aloud, his voice steady but carrying the weight of the words, as though each one is drawn from some long-lost truth.

"These seem to be journal entries written by a High Priest Julius," Ryu says. He clears his throat before he starts. "I still cannot believe it," he reads, the voice of the High Priest Julius emerging from the pages, written in a time long past. "At first, the signs were subtle, mere whispers in the wind. It began with doubt—a seed sown deep within the hearts of men. Friends became enemies, turning upon each other with a hatred that grew from nothing. Loved ones, too, were caught in its grip, convinced that those dearest to them were plotting their downfall."

I listen, each word chilling in its simplicity, and I feel the air grow heavier as Ryu continues.

"Then came the nightmares," Ryu reads, his voice growing more somber, as though the very weight of the memory seeps into the room with the words. "Nightmares so vivid, so real, that waking from them brought no comfort. I too was afflicted by such terrors—visions of a being of shadow, whispering foul things in my mind. But my will is strong, and I withstood what others could not."

I can't help but shift uneasily in my seat, remembering my own nightmares, the vivid horrors the Shadowfell cast into my mind, twisting my worst fears. The memory of its cold whispers sends a shiver through me.

"My friends, though," Ryu continues, "were not as fortunate. They lacked the strength to withstand it. One by one, they fell. I had no choice but to lock them away, for their own good. But none broke my heart so much as my dearest friend, Augustus."

Ryu pauses, his fingers momentarily hovering over the page as though the weight of what comes next holds him back. His voice softens as he reads the next line.

"Augustus, who had once been as a brother to me, came to see me as a traitor. I still remember the look in his eyes—a fury born not from reason, but from the dark whispers that had taken hold of his mind. It pained me more than words can say to have him locked up. Yet, there was no choice. Not if I wished to save him from himself."

I glance at Lady Elizabeth. At the start, she had been so certain—so sure that the Shadowfell was nothing more than a myth, a tale to frighten children. But now? Now, her gaze is steady on the pages, her stern expression softening into one of grim realization. Whatever doubts she held seem to be slowly melting away.

Ryu continues reading, his voice a little quieter now, as if the words weigh heavier with each passing sentence.

"It was then that the wildlife began to turn as well," Ryu reads. "Creatures once fearful of men now acted with a madness that no one could explain. Beasts that had once fled at the sight of us now bared their fangs and attacked with a fury I had never seen. I myself was forced to flee from a creature as harmless as a rabbit, so fierce was its assault. My leg still bears the wound."

He stops for a moment, lifting his eyes from the page as though to take a breath, but his expression betrays a sense of unease. The air in the room feels dense, as if the very words themselves are infecting the space around us with the dread of what came before.

Even Nikko, usually so curious and energetic, remains unusually still, her ears twitching only slightly as she listens to Ryu's voice.

After a moment, Ryu glances at me, then at Apollo, who stands silently in the corner, ever watchful. With a soft sigh, Ryu returns his gaze to the text and continues.

"But it was not the madness of the animals that broke me," he reads softly. "It was what happened to Augustus. He... he was found standing over the bodies of his wife and daughter."

The words hang in the air like a curse, and I feel my stomach churn at the image they conjure.

"He killed them both," Ryu says, his voice barely above a whisper now, as though the act of saying it aloud is almost too much to bear. "And yet, in his eyes, there was no guilt. No sorrow. Only peace. It sickened me to my core. The whispers had taken everything from him."

Ryu stops again, and this time, the silence in the room feels oppressive. I can barely breathe, the weight of Julius's words pressing down on me like a heavy cloak. My heart aches for what this man must have endured, watching the world around him fall apart, consumed by something so evil and dark.

I glance again at Lady Elizabeth. Her face is paler now, her lips pressed tightly together as she listens. Gone is the dismissive tone she carried earlier. Instead, there is something deeper in her eyes now, a recognition that this is no mere tale. This is something real. Something that has returned to plague us all.

Ryu clears his throat softly before continuing to read aloud from the ancient tome. His voice carries a weight that fills the room, a grim echo of the past.

"Then came the illness," Ryu reads, his tone somber as though he, too, can feel the despair that the words carry. "It swept across the lands, like a plague sent by the darkest of forces. The water, once clean and pure, grew foul and undrinkable. The crops, once plentiful, withered away under the sun, leaving the earth barren and cracked. And the livestock..." Ryu pauses, the words on the page heavy with sorrow. "The livestock grew ill. The milk from the cows turned sickly, no longer white and nourishing, but a shade that one could only describe as diseased. The eggs, once a source of sustenance, cracked open to reveal blood within, as if cursed by the very shadows that now plagued the land."

I feel a shiver run down my spine as Ryu continues. The imagery of bloody eggs and tainted milk makes my stomach twist, and I can sense the tension in the room growing. Even Nikko, usually curious and attentive, has grown silent, her ears flattened as she listens with wide, fearful eyes.

"I remember one day," Ryu reads on, his voice softening slightly, "when I passed by a villager preparing to slaughter a goat. But when the blade cut through its skin, it was not blood that flowed, but something far worse—a black, viscous substance, thick as tar and fouler than any stench I had ever known. The villagers recoiled in horror, unable to comprehend what had befallen their once healthy livestock. All beasts that showed signs of the sickness were gathered in desperation, slain, and burned in great pyres, in hopes that the flames might quell whatever evil had taken root within them."

I glance toward Lady Elizabeth, who sits motionless now, her stern demeanor long gone. Instead, her face is a mask of grim realization, as though the gravity of what she had dismissed as a myth is beginning to sink in.

Ryu pauses for a moment, looking at the illustrations on the page, then continues.

"But what grieves me more," he says, his voice carrying the sorrow of High Priest Julius, "is the knowledge that our kingdom is not alone in this affliction. Word has spread that the other realms of Aranthia are suffering as we are. No kingdom is safe. Our food stores grow low, and with each passing day, the hope of relief grows fainter."

The room is heavy with silence, the words hanging over us like a shroud. I can almost feel the despair that Julius must have felt as he wrote these words, watching his world fall apart.

"But it is not the sickness of the land that haunts me most," Ryu reads on, his voice lowering, "It is the whispers—the dark voices that never cease. They speak to me always, urging me to take what is not mine, to betray those closest to me. Friends, family—they want me to turn against them. I pray, day and night, for the voices to be silenced, but they only grow louder, more persistent. They promise me power, they promise me safety, but I know they lie."

Ryu's voice trails off, and for a moment, the room feels as though it's been plunged into a deeper silence, a silence that weighs on my chest.

He stops reading, his eyes lingering on the faded ink of the page. I see Lady Elizabeth shift in her seat, her hands clasped tightly together. The dismissive air she had earlier is gone—replaced now with a heavy concern that she can no longer deny.

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"What then?" Elizabeth asks, her voice quieter now, a mixture of dread and urgency in her tone. "What happened after that?"

Ryu doesn't answer right away. Instead, he flips through the pages, his brow furrowed as he searches for more—some piece of the puzzle that might tell us what came next. But his eyes narrow in frustration as he turns page after page.

Finally, Ryu looks up. "It just repeats, similar accounts written by different people. Apollo, can you take a look?" he asks, holding out the book.

Without a word, Apollo steps forward, his metallic form moving with silent grace. He takes the ancient tome from Ryu's hand, the weight of it seemingly nothing to the droid. Lady Elizabeth's eyes widen slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing her face as she watches Apollo. I, too, can't help but feel a bit of awe at what comes next.

Apollo begins flipping through the pages at a speed that blurs his motions. His eyes seem to scan the text with incredible precision, faster than I can even register the words. The pages fly by, one after another, as if he's absorbing the entire contents of the book in mere seconds.

I exchange a glance with Ryu, my eyes wide with amazement. Nikko leans forward, her eyes tracking Apollo's movements, though it's clear she can't keep up with him.

In no time at all, Apollo reaches the final page. He closes the book gently and hands it back to Ryu, his mechanical voice steady as ever. "There are forty-seven similar reports of such events documented within, but nothing further on this particular account," he states, his tone matter-of-fact.

Lady Elizabeth blinks, her eyebrows lifting in surprise. "You got all that so quickly?" she asks, her voice betraying both astonishment and skepticism.

Apollo nods, ever composed. "Affirmative. I have become highly acclimated to the gathering and retention of knowledge," he begins, his tone factual, but Ryu cuts in before Apollo can continue.

"I'd explain more about how Apollo is capable of such feats," Ryu says, his voice calm but with an undercurrent of urgency. "But we're running out of time, Lady Elizabeth. As you can see, the Shadowfell is no myth. It's real, and we need to stop it before it's too late."

Lady Elizabeth's face is pale now, her sternness completely replaced by a grim acknowledgment of the truth. The room is filled with a tense silence, broken only by the sound of the ancient book's cover softly closing in Ryu's hands.

"Are you okay, Lady Elizabeth?" I ask, noticing how her hands shake slightly as she clutches the bottle of alcohol.

"I grew up with this old fairy tale," she says softly, almost as if she's speaking to herself. Her voice takes on a quieter, more fragile tone. "My mother used to tell it to me when I was little. 'If you don't behave,' she'd say, 'the Shadowfell will snatch you away.'"

Her lips press into a thin line, and for a moment, she seems lost in the memory. "To me, as a kid," she continues, her voice trembling slightly, "the Shadowfell wasn't just some far-off monster in a story. It was... it was the monster under my bed. The one in the closet that I was terrified of. The one my mother would check for at night before tucking me in."

I watch her as she runs a hand through her hair, her voice shaking with the weight of old fears. "My parents used the Shadowfell to seize bad behavior," she says, letting out a strained chuckle. "Any time I acted up, they'd remind me that the Shadowfell could come for me. 'If you're bad,' they'd say, 'it will take you away.' And I believed it, whole-heartedly."

Her eyes darken, and she takes another gulp of her drink, as though trying to wash away the remnants of her childhood fear. "It felt so real back then," she admits. "Like... if I misbehaved even a little, the Shadowfell would be there. Waiting. Ready to drag me away into the dark."

Her attempt at a chuckle is strained, and I can hear the lingering unease in her tone. She stands up, running a hand through her hair, and with a resigned sigh, she adds, "I need a drink."

We follow her as she leaves her office and heads for the bar next to the reception area. The atmosphere in the guild hall feels heavy, the silence broken only by the sound of Elizabeth's footsteps on the wooden floor. The bar, which once must have been a lively place for adventurers to unwind, now feels almost ghostly, with the shelves of bottles collecting dust. She approaches the display of bottles and grabs one of them, her fingers shaking slightly as she reaches for it.

"Want anything to drink?" she asks, turning back to us, holding the bottle in her hand, her gaze wandering over us.

Ryu shakes his head politely, his voice calm. "No, thank you." I follow suit, declining with a small shake of my head. Apollo, of course, remains as still as ever, his mechanical eyes focused on her but offering no response.

But then Nikko pipes up, her small voice breaking the tension. "I would like some juice," she says, her ears perking up hopefully.

Elizabeth's eyes soften at Nikko's request, though she lets out a tired sigh. "I'm sorry, little one," she says, her voice apologetic. "All we have is water. Is that okay?"

Nikko nods eagerly, her tail flicking with the same enthusiasm she always has. "Water's okay!" she says, her cheerful tone a stark contrast to the somber mood hanging over us.

Elizabeth disappears behind the bar, rummaging through the cabinets. After a few moments, she returns with a pitcher of water in one hand and a glass in the other, along with the bottle of alcohol she had picked up for herself. She pours Nikko a glass of water, which Nikko takes with both hands, her eyes gleaming with gratitude.

"Thank you!" Nikko says, smiling up at Elizabeth, who gives her a small, tired smile in return.

As Nikko happily drinks her water, Elizabeth unscrews the cap of her bottle and takes a long gulp of the alcohol, closing her eyes briefly as if trying to drown out her thoughts. Her throat works as she swallows, and when she exhales, it's with that kind of deep, almost sighing exhale that follows a strong drink—the kind that tells you it's not her first time needing this kind of release.

The silence stretches, but then Elizabeth's voice cuts through the stillness, shakier now. "We received nothing but animal-slaying quests at first," she begins, her voice unsteady. "It started small. But the missions kept piling up. Villagers complaining of strange animal behavior all over the kingdom. We thought it might just be some natural phenomenon, perhaps a mage causing mischief..."

She pauses, her hands trembling as she grips the edge of the bar. "But then people started leaving." Her voice lowers, thick with emotion. "Many of the adventurers just left, abandoning their quests. I don't blame them. The missions didn't pay that much even with the addition of animal parts. But it wasn't just the missions that caused them to leave. There was... something unnatural in the air. A kind of sickness spreading, but we couldn't place it."

Her breath quickens slightly as she recalls something, her eyes glazing over with a distant look. "Then the illness spread across Arroyo," she says, her voice dropping even lower. "I remember this little dog by the bakery down the road..." She swallows hard, her breathing becoming labored, as though just recounting it brings back the memory too vividly. "Sweetest dog in the world. Always greeted customers. Played with children. Everyone loved him."

Her eyes grow darker, the strain of the memory weighing heavily on her. "I saw that same dog attack a woman in broad daylight. It—it took two grown men to pull him off of her." She stops for a moment, taking another gulp from the bottle, her hands shaking even more now. "Such attacks started happening all over the city. I couldn't make sense of it. But now..." She trails off, her voice a whisper as she grips the bottle tighter. "Now, I see it. It's all connected."

The horror of what she's describing sends a chill through me. Even Ryu, usually so composed, shifts slightly.

"What happened to the staff?" Ryu asks, breaking the tense silence.

Elizabeth sighs again, setting the bottle down more gently this time. "I let them go home," she says softly, a deep sadness in her voice. "To be with their families. They were all terrified, and I couldn't ask them to stay in this nightmare." Her lips tighten into a thin line. "My husband is overseas, visiting his brother, and my kids—they're grown. They have families of their own now." Her voice wavers. "I thought maybe I'd leave too... before it was too late."

Nikko, with her ever-curious eyes, looks up from her glass of water. "But the city is closed," she says, her voice innocent and full of wonder. "How would you be able to leave?"

Elizabeth turns toward Nikko, a small, almost mischievous smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. "I have my ways," she says, her tone holding a touch of mystery. There's something about the way she says it that makes me wonder if she's been planning an escape route for some time.

The room falls silent again, the tension palpable. I feel the weight of the situation pressing down on me. Elizabeth, once so stern and dismissive, now appears fragile—her facade of authority cracking as the reality of the Shadowfell takes root. I exchange a glance with Ryu, hoping he has the answers we need, but even he seems lost in thought, his hand gently resting on the cover of the book.

I glance at Ryu, who remains silent, his gaze tracking Elizabeth carefully. He's waiting, letting her process the weight of everything we've told her. But I can't stay silent any longer.

"Lady Elizabeth," I begin cautiously, watching her take another long gulp from the bottle. She lowers it slowly, her eyes now focused on me. "Were you able to get an audience with the king?"

She exhales again, this time a deep, weary sigh, and shakes her head, her expression darkening. "The king blew me off," she says, her voice tinged with frustration. "He wouldn't believe the Shadowfell is real. Dismissed me entirely. Said it was just a story—a fairy tale to scare the gullible." Her eyes harden with regret as she looks down at the bottle in her hands.

I feel a twinge of sympathy for her. I can't imagine how hard it must be, knowing the truth and having no one believe you. She takes another swig from the bottle, her hand trembling slightly as she sets it down on the bar with a soft clink.

"I stopped believing in it too," she admits, her voice quieter now, a trace of sorrow lingering in her words. "Or else I would have fought harder to convince him."

The way her expression falters tells me that she regrets it deeply—that if she had believed, maybe things would be different now. She looks up at us again, her eyes filled with a grim determination. "But with this book," she says, glancing at the ancient tome that Ryu still holds, "maybe I can make him believe. Maybe then he'll see it's not just a myth." She takes a deep breath, her shoulders slumping as if the weight of the kingdom rests on her. "I can't make any promises," she adds softly, her tone weary, "but I'll try."

She sets the bottle down harder than before, her hand gripping the edge of the bar as if trying to steady herself.

I feel a small flicker of hope rise in me, but it's faint—barely there. The darkness of the Shadowfell, the illness spreading across Eldoria, the desperation in the streets—it all feels so much bigger than us. But still, that tiny flicker of hope is enough to make me nod, to make me believe that maybe, just maybe, we can stop it.