Iggwilv stood at the great bookcase, a massive wall of knowledge that stretches up to the black-domed ceiling above. She runs her hand along the spine of the tomes, the old parchment pages ruffling beneath dainty fingertips. She finds the desired page and pull a fine quill pen from one of the desk drawers. She began to write. The room is perfectly still, no sound of movement, no sounds of life. The witch queen takes a deep breath and continues.