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I used to think traitors couldn't be trusted. But then again, it's hard to trust anyone, when everyone is trying to kill you.

I was then walking through the town of Saeroth. Shock, fear, many words cannot describe how I felt. The whole town, in ruin. The foul stench of death wafted through the air. My memories, they hard to think of when I was there, those exact moments. So now, I will speak as things once were, in the past. Seeing how no one but myself was alive, I snatched some books away from a half burned down library. I didn't bother taking any food. It may had been poisoned.

On the outskirts of the town, I sat against a twisted old tree, and pulled out one of the books. It's spine was worn away, and there were some tears on the cover. From what I could tell, the name of it was Sphir Faersca. It was written in the ancient language of the kinds. I didn't know much of it, but from what I could tell, it said "The hidden throne." The book was about Brook Village, and how the prince there denied the throne, and his sister, although they weren't related. She was kidnapped as a child and was never found. I had no idea that the king lived in Brook Village. More surprises were found in that book as I read on.

"Wait...if that was....then we're dead?!"