[h3] [color=#e5e4e2] [b]The Gray Flame[/b][/color][/h3]
[hr]
Despite the banter, there were no disputes on the distribution of treasures. Tillius took the spear, Fia had the bow and Carnathia claimed the dagger. The last one was the trickiest, but Fia's spell seemed effective enough to contain its enfeebling aura. 

It was time for them to leave, finally and Vesemir would be the one who lead, though he did so with a heavy heart. 

"Goodbye, Theriadore. Your legacy will always live on!"  He said as he watched the door seal itself shut after he inserted the access card. "On a less evil day, we would enjoy our time sitting in the library and honoring the knowledge, but now we must go, hopefully, that's for the better days." 

The monocled elf sniffed the air as if fighting against the tear, before walking away. His commentary about the stairs making him feel rheumatic was the last rambling before they started the climb to depart from Lasse Municipal Library

I presume nothing is happening while we are inside? See anything unusual?" Asked Vesemir intensively to Forbann when they reached the building's front door. He wielded the so-called powerful protective scroll, but his tone was vigilant, and although the Oni answered with a resolute no, his eyes still wandered about. 

And when someone asked what he was expecting, the answers were short but effective in hindsight: "Varenheim authority". And no other explanation was given when he reached in to grip something behind the layer of his clothing and declared: "We made it. We got what we are looking for. Let's move out!"

Still with a lantern at hand, Vesemir was taking the lead. The night was still dark, and it seemed they only spent two hours inside the library. The foul breeze was still whirling in this cold night, and from the corner of his eyes Gray Flame could see the shadowy silhouette creeping out from the ruined building, but then those shadowy entities retreating back again. 
They were taking the same route, but now they just realized that Vesemir was not as cautious as before. The path they took was almost straight, and no amount of overgrown or sprawled part of the ruin would make Vesemir change course. Not even the shadow, that now congregates ahead of them.
He only stopped once, looked over his shoulder, and smiled. [b]"Fear not, Friends! Never again we shall fear the darkness, for the echo of the past and the remnants of the departed have no righteous place in the world of the living!" 
[/b]
And he walked forth, through the encroaching shadow. And that layer of shadow shrunk and disappeared. More awaited in front of them; the wailing silhouettes of the past. It offered no resistance, nor even the slightest movement as it disintegrated into the light. 

[b]"The power of the scroll protects us all."[/b]

The group halted and crowded anxiously behind him, but who could blame them? The entrapment was still fresh in their mind, but now the evidence was clear as a day, and Vesemir demonstrated it in every step he took. 

The march back to the camp was uneventful and felt shorter now with the phantoms no longer posing any meaningful threat to them. For Gray, it was a welcoming situation because fatigue had set in, and now he wanted nothing but a proper sleep.

They arrived at last, and at first glance, everything seemed normal. The campfire was lit brightly, but immediately he felt something was amiss. Out of five porters and henchmen Vesemir hired, he saw only one of them, standing aimlessly in front of the campfire with a hysterical expression. He held a woodcutter axe, and initially, prepared to swing it the moment he saw the group walked closer.

[b]"Sire! Sire! Good Gods you are here!"[/b] The man was frantic, and he dropped his weapon as he knelt down and embraced Vesemir's shin like a frightened child with labored breath.  [b]"That thing! That thing took them!  I saw it myself!... Into the forest! Sir Stepan and the others!" [/b]

Another minute was spent to calm that survive so Vesemir could extract meaningful information. The man repeatedly pointed southeast of the camp, across the paved road, where he said there was a dark entity taking away his friends.

Gray Flame said nothing. His vexation was well hidden behind his white mask. As the only ranger in that group, his first course of action was to analyze their camp. Besides the missing porters, everything seemed orderly, the horses were still calm and tied on their posts, the supplies were still on the carriage, and there was no sign of fierce assault. However, he noticed a dozen bottles of ales and bears scattered around the campfire and a few empty tankards along with unfinished meals. The survivor's account mentioned that the accident happened less than an hour ago. 

Sitting on one of the chairs (that graciously did not topple over after that supposed ruckus!), the masked Gray sighed exasperatedly, his eyes glanced at the unmoving giant tree at the corner of the camp side. Meanwhile, the survivor was frantic again, this time he buried his index fingers in his ears, and screamed [b]"The shrieker! Gods! Spare me! Spare me! Forgive me! Please stop!"[/b]

[i]What the hell is happening? [/i]