An ominous wind whipped through Niamh's hair as she stood in the deserted streets of Shattered Relic. The roads were littered with crashed carriages, warped-lamp poles, garbage and other debris from some disaster long ago. The buildings were massive things of Gothic architecture, bearing hundreds of stone-eyed gargoyles staring down at the poor girl. Her friends, no, her books, are all gone now. She is utterly alone.<br/><br/>All she was given before being rejected from society, were a few kind words from the Librarian that raised her. "<em>... Have you heard the name Errack? He was once a powerful sorcerer that contributed many works of art and literature to the world. Many of his books have found a home here. Sadly, he was one of the residents swallowed up by the Cursed who brought Shattered Relic to ruin. They say he fell to madness creating the Cure for that poor soul. If you can find his home, perhaps you can find your salvation...</em>"<br/><br/>Salvation. It was her only hope. Even now, Niamh could feel Arlest's whispering sweetly in the back of her mind. It was distant, for now, but the voice grew just a bit louder every day. It spoke of all the pleasures that would be hers, if she just gave up...<br/><br/>But there was a terrible cost to what the voices offered. A cost that could be seen marred into this poor city. The question was simple; would Naimh pay it?