Torn page of Terrus's notes  

Page 28 The sounds of the cries of the spirits, just the sheer volume of it all, is almost maddening. I could hear their agonizing wails even in my sleep, in my dreams, and in my meditations. Finally today, I left the city to search the jungle. I spent several sleepless days out in the jungle, searching throughout the dense undergrowth, mindful of the sorrowful voices of the spirits. I was able to follow this sound as it grew louder, until I reached an ancient city. Here, the spirits wander among the ruins, trapped with a strange vortex of reality... something I cannot identify. I have walked among the spirits, and was even forced to defend myself from them... however, I cannot help but feel pity for them. They long for release, an end to their endless suffering. But there is more. They seem to have a fear about them... a real palpable fear. It is noticeable in their cries, and exists like a fog over all of the land surrounding the ruins. I searched within the city for clues, but found nothing that offered immediate answers. I did, however, find a spirit, possibly older than all of the others, jealously cradling something that looked tangible within its grasp. Whatever that is, I must have it. I will return and seek it out.