(IIIII intended to post this a week or so ago, and forgot to! I finally have something to put here so)
[An old, bark-bound journal laid on the desk. Its pages appeared unnaturally delicate, as if they should not have survived the obvious turmoil it had experienced. Water damage was obvious, but none of the text contained within it had bled. A good portion of pages have been ripped out; About half of it remains yet to be written.
Flipping though, it was easy to notice that the author was not much of an artist. The depictions were sloppy, too focused on the appearance of things and not the form underneath. But there was an honesty to them, using light and shadow as if trying to capture an emotion or memory instead of reality. A whole page consumed by charcoal, leaving only empty, white eyes. Dragoneye revealed when turning another, causing your skin to itch at its sudden stare. The flash of a being just barely recognizable as a critter clinging to an unfathomable inky depth, shying from shards of light that seemed to have teeth.
Hastily skipping the rest of that portion uncovered a series of pages that appeared entirely blank... Bringing them closer to a candle, in hopes of finding indentations that would give a clue as to what was written over them, showed a very faint outline of words. Of course in the haste to try to darken the appearing letters further the page burns. It was never for your eyes.]