“The Spire’s library had once been his personal sanctuary—a place of power where he hungrily devoured knowledge, striving to refine himself into the best version of who he could be. Pages, ink, sleepless nights in the quiet company of the anancasts, always in secret, beyond the ever-watchful eye of the Commandant. A harsh time. The best time. Now, it had all faded, frozen over in endless winters and buried beneath a shroud of funeral ash.”

In his youth, Vergill had been one of the few students who managed to earn the respect of the anancasts — an achievement reserved for only the rarest of the fortunate. A meticulous perfectionist, he understood these ever-smiling beings and shared their reverence for knowledge.

And yet… that same perfectionism, that same stubbornness on both sides, often led to spectacular clashes. More than once, Vergill had to flee for his life under a storm of shrieking voices, flying papers, quills, and claws, pursued by furious keepers of the library.

Still, time and time again, he found a way back to peace—and once more, he would return to his books.“