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Confessions from Crescente posted:

The ravages of time had taken their toll on the mind of the one I once respected like a father. He has allowed himself to be carried away by the superstition and fallacies of the village, searching for the impossible with his clouded eyes among the altars of the Mother. And Dolphos betrays the trust of his Most Illustrious, taking refuge in the cold peaks with his host of servants, wearing his introspection as an excuse to hide his laziness and lack of faith. Only I, the only one capable of ascending to the marble halls with an adequate response, remain. The forbidden volumes of these endless shelves will not resist the zeal of my searching much longer.

Lore posted:

The key must be silver, but not any kind. I want it to be the purest there is. Bring it to me when its beauty is as high as its task is meaningful. The chariot will be sealed and forbidden, and your horses will sleep for as long as I order it. This I command, and my command is the command of His Holiness Himself.

Lore posted:

Father, take off these things that restrain my arms and legs... Father, they are killing me... it does not help me to tell them what I did, for they want to hear what I did not do... Father... They are not looking for the truth... They want an offence against you from my mouth, Father, may the Miracle save me....

Lore posted:

... He took a large stone that rested nearby and struck his leg with it until his bones broke, thus escaping from the chain that held him prisoner. Crawling, he left the place, but the sand under his feet, according to what he told us, absorbed the trail of blood he left behind, and so his captors could not tell which path he had taken. Since then, every night, he prays, tearfully, next to a pile of sand he keeps beside his bed...