Levy stared wide-eyed at the words written on the page. Her breathing became hushed shudders as she tried to understand what her eyes were seeing. Mavis Vermilion? THE Mavis Vermilion? Fiore idolized her as a savior, the one who taught Makarov's ancestors the great magic that had first created the barrier. Without her, the Dark Lands and Fiore would be one and the same and the monsters of the Dark Lands would have roamed rampant in the light country.

But why would she do something like this when she had been victorious in her creation? It was rumored that the reason she hadn't made the barrier herself was because she lacked the magical power that the Makarov family had, but this book was living proof that those speculations were tremendously incorrect. Why had Mavis, the embodiment of light and good in the eyes of Fiore, used such a dark and cursed magic to seal her soul away in the pages of such a book?

Levy could feel herself shaking, but whether it was from fear or anticipation she couldn't tell. She could feel the dark secrets turning in the paper beneath her fingers and her curiosity was eating at the recesses of her brain.

"Mavis Vermilion…" Levy whispered, running her fingers over the aged paper. She didn't know what brought the words to her mind, but she spoke them nonetheless, tasting each syllable on her tongue with care, "Awaken from your sleep."

Words in deep crimson began to appear on the pages, springing up as if alive on the yellowing paper. The letters had minds of their own, arranging themselves into patterns and words and phrases before her very eyes. She didn't even try to hide the amazement on her face as she watched the procession beneath her fingers. She could feel a presence invade the space around her, as if another living being were in the room with her. But the feeling wasn't dark and brooding, it was gentle and comforting, as if a long lost friend had just sat down by her side.

Levy cast her eyes about the room to confirm her solitude and then settled them back again to read the words splayed in a brilliant scarlet against the pages.

My name is Mavis Vermilion.

I am not a fool and the passage of time has not eluded me even as I slumber. Truths, as the ages pass, turn into myth and the horrors of my time have fallen to nothing more but stories to be told by mothers to scare their children. But do not mistake me for a fanatic who lacks her wits as I write to you now. The words that I lay down before you are nothing more than the truth as told to you in the only way I know how, through my own personal involvement. So please, take heed of my words and remember my name. If you want the truth, then you must seek it.

Levy stared at the words, reading and rereading them. Another puzzle, maybe? This time, though, with words? She flipped through the pages to confirm that her hunch was true and let out a thoughtful sigh. She could do this. She'd read hundreds of texts on decoding. She studied the words, trying to decipher some secret message but couldn't make out anything in particular. A couple of times she thought she was getting close but found herself stumbling over her own thoughts once again as she came to another dead end.

"It's something simple, Levy," she sighed, her brow furrowing in exasperation, "Something that she'd want her reader to pick up on…"

If you want the truth, then you must seek it.

A spell?

"I seek the truth…" Levy murmured, "Quaero verum,"

There is a great darkness that resides in this world, a darkness that was long forgotten to the ancient times before language or civilization. This darkness feeds on deception and prides itself in the destruction of nations. A creation of such evil that life turns into cold death in its wake and structures that had once weathered time and storm crumble under its sight. Please believe my words, for I have seen the destruction with my own eyes.

Zeref is real and his children are strong in the evil arts.

During a time when war ravaged the world, turning brother against brother and father against son, Lord Precht came to power within the Grimoire nation. He held compassion for his people in high regard and favored them above all else. His reign, however, was not without loss and tragedy. Famine raged the small country and soon war also began to eat away at its people. He tried his best to fend for his countrymen and keep his promises of safety to them but was soon faced with a force to great for him to overcome.

Desperation is what called the Shadow out of hiding.

Soon after, Lord Precht came to me and asked me for guidance. Sorrow weighed his heart down heavily and he begged me for a solution to his troubles. I could give him none that could satisfy him and so he left, his despair turning into anger and hate. He closed the gates to his castle, and also his heart, to the suffering of his dying nation. Their cries held no significance for him any longer. Like a mad man, he searched for power enough to destroy the foes knocking on his door, vowing to avenge his fallen compatriots.

Hate is what gave the Shadow its strength.

A servant of Lord Precht came to me, his eyes full of worry for his king. The Lord had finally pulled himself from behind his citadel to aid his ailing nation, but the reunion was not one of joy and celebration. He had changed his name to Lord Hades, refusing to answer by his previous title. His eyes were cold and unfeeling, glistening red like blood. Hate and anger filled his voice and he called about his troops to join in the war that had devastated them. His words were filled with a poison more toxic than a snake's and his lies filled the hearts of his people with a false hope. He rallied his people and called them into action, though few would ever realize he was merely readying his homicidal sacrifice.

As the days progressed towards the day of their first battle, Hades had begun to change. His servants were awoken to screams in the night and would often find him wandering about the halls of the castle, eyes blazing scarlet as he babbled to himself like a maniac. Soon, his blood turned to black ink as the Shadow consumed his flesh, feeding off of its host like a parasite. His veins stood out on his skin and turned dark, turning each pump of his heart into a vessel for the spread of the lunacy, which the Shadow fed off of.

Finally, the day of the battle came.

I cannot express to you the sorrow I felt when I heard the news. For long I had realized that Lord Hades' heart had been tainted with something evil but hadn't comprehended its true nature until that fateful day. Sometimes when I lay in bed at night, I could still hear their cries for help as they finally succumbed to their death.

Hades reached the power he had so long been searching for. He controlled a terrible magic, the ability to control the blood of human beings and turn it against them. His control stretched through the entirety of his army and the throng of men that had faced them. Within seconds, the battlefield was nothing more than bloodied corpses littering the ground in heaps. The only one left alive was Hades, and he merely smiled at the sight before him.

I fully believe that with this act, the Shadow consumed Hades' very soul, stealing away his body and masquerading as the kind Lord in order to wreak havoc on this world. What convinced me of this is when I went to visit Hades. I demanded to know why he was killing his own people and so many others so needlessly. He had all but slaughtered his own people, leaving a few members who worshipped him alive. Only his most trusted were able to even come near him.

Words fail me when I try to describe what I encountered that day. Hades no longer existed in this world and yet the man who had answered me so coldly must be him, for her looked and acted just the same. The voice, however, that slithered past his lips choked my lungs like smoke and drove me to my knees. Darkness is a thing I am familiar to, but what I had faced filled my being with the upmost dread. True evil in its most natural form sat on the crumbling throne before me and it smiled at me as if I had been a long time friend.

It was then that I realized what I had to do in order to stop the bloodshed. I gathered the most sacred of talismans as I could find and brought them with me to the castle. A red amulet, a dragon's scale, and an angel's feather. With these, I bound the Dark Lord into the catacombs beneath his citadel and called forth the Shadow that lurked inside his body. With as much strength as I could muster, I cast the Shadow into a sleep, sealing its spirit away to not be awakened again.

These are my last words, to you, dear reader. They are not meant for the eyes of any other aside from yourself. I have completed the spell and can now feel my soul being pulled away from me. Please believe me when I say this wasn't an easy decision, but I owe it to this world to protect it as best as I can, not only as a living being that walks upon this earth but also as a priestess who's heart cannot bear to be responsible for another bloodbath akin to this.

One day the shadow will awaken once again. It will be drawn by sorrow and feed off of pain and hate. If it is able to reach its full potential, I fear for what will become of this world in my absence. And so, with my last breath I fill these pages in the hopes that one day the heir the Vermilion name will find my words and heed them. Destroy the Shadow once and for all. Don't listen to its lies, for it will try to lead you astray. You must remain true to the strength you carry with you and the lives that you bear on your shoulders.

You may be small, but you are greater than it could ever hope to be.

I give you all of my blessing and strength.

Levy McGarden