It had been a while since I had visited my brother, Lars. I had not seen him anywhere around town lately. In fact, it had been well over two weeks since we had last spoken. I worried about him. I know things had a tendency to go wrong when Lars was left to himself. Mother had advised me to keep him close before she passed on. I was making my own way in a life of laboring, but he was stuck in his foolish ambitions. Fearing what trouble he'd gotten himself into, I decided to pay him a visit.

With trepidation I knocked at his door. The sky showed a brilliant array of violets and reds. Dusk was soon upon us. There was no reply to my knocks, so I quietly opened the door and strode into Lars' living space. Everything was meticulously nestled in its proper place. The shelves my brother kept lined with books and journals were in neat order. The room was especially dark save for the dim sunlight from the doorway and there was nary a sound at all. I quickly searched the house and, turning up no sign of Lars, began to worry. Where could he be?

I began to leave when I noticed a small book lying on a table. I picked up it and inspected it. It was Lars' journal. Opening it, I saw that his last entry was dated eleven days prior. I read it, hoping it would hold some clue to his whereabouts:

"Borrowing that book was the best idea I've have yet! So many secrets are contained within its pages. I read it from cover to cover over the past two nights, and its insights into the arcane arts are absolutely breathtaking. The binding power of its spells should be precisely the thing I need to breathe life into my creations. Tomorrow I will set out. I do wonder if I should inform Victor. Oh, but he always frowns upon my experiments. Ah, I've just the plan. I'll go before first light, so I can make my return trip before nightfall, my successful production in hand."

Set out to where? And arcane arts? Magic was dangerous to experiment with; alchemy stations were few and far between and supervised by experienced magicians. If Lars was working alone, he could very well hurt himself. I grabbed up the journal and returned home. I had to look for him. I hastily packed up a bit of food, my sword for protection if needed, and the journal. According to the last log, it was no more than part of a day's journey from town. I would hopefully be able to find more direction from the journal as I went along.

I left my home, stopping in front of the temple. I knelt in a silent prayer for a moment, then set off at a quickened pace, torch in one hand, journal in the other...