Dear Trillium.

The journals of Lunaria were hidden amongst the depths of the Great Archives, away from prying eyes and mischievous prat Canterlot seems to be able to brew at times. All eight of them seemed to have been left untouched for generations, nearly two-hundred cycles from what the withering leather and fragile pages seemed to evoke. The journal titled ‘Descensus’ was different from the rest in almost every aspect. It was a darker sheen of brown, almost black, and glistened with an intense polish that made it seem as if it was constantly taken care of, while the pages inside didn’t fare so well. Why would they take care of the outside, rather than the knowledge within? In curiosity, I took the journal out and hid it in my bags before departing from the archives. The lady at the desk had a vile grudge for my last borrowing of an old legislation on the Treaty of The Northwhey Crossing. Coming back with a slight crease in a page was enough to put me into bad tastes with her, so leaving with something that she is surely unaware of without checking out with her was the best option.