The corrupted librarian, Nemoriel, remained on his knees as if reliving a harrowing memory, his hulking form trembling beneath the weight of something ancient and dreadful.
"It was during the siege.... we were losing, even with the help of some of the visitors... we stood no chance. Worst of all... we knew the truth… these allies of ours did not have our best interest at heart…"
His voice—low, pained—broke through the thick silence like the groan of a dying colossus. Each word dragged through his throat as if barbed, his tone steeped in suffering.
"It was then Mugu offered a way to Master. He claimed he felt guilty for what had happened… what was happening… he wanted to atone…"
Nemoriel's face remained as disgusting as ever—bloated with rot and centuries of decay—but his voice carried a grief they could not ignore.
Corrupted for thousands of years… and still he persisted.
