Abbandonato Emeritus sighed as he turned the heavy tome in his hands, running black-gloved fingers over the worn leather cover. Its secrets had eluded him for months, but tonight would yield answers - he could feel it in his bones.

A knock at the oaken doors of the Archives interrupted his peace

"Come," he called in his low voice, irritation beneath his grim expression. The fourth (or well going in order, fifth) frontman was an easily irritable man. He sighed, pressing his fingertips together