A land—mostly a wide and withered marshland, with a forever dark and cloudy sky—where inhabits an uncountable number of soul-like beings that laze away their existences, unfazed by the currents of time. Imprisoned, for no gate exists to lead them out, just like there is not one which could lead you in.
These souls loiter about for what seems an eternity without any purpose or attachment. Eventually, however, their presence fades into forgetfulness, disappearing as if no one was there to begin with.
—The rain suddenly breaks in an eerie manner, there is just absolute silence. Slowly, cutting through the dark clouds, a column of pure light descends directly from the sky, piercing the soil in front of an ancient castle ruin. The imposing, ominous light stands as a vertical horizon, attracting the attention of some souls that were in its proximities.
One of them, as it reached closer, saw, in the centre of the column, colours you could never find anywhere else in these damned grey plains, hues casted in a square-shaped object.
It was a book. The soul, bewitched by the strange item, rushed towards it, leaping into the light.
The other souls, they say, were paralysed by the shattering occurrence. However, what is told of it now is that, when the others arrived at the ruined castle, the soul had vanished—and no book was mentioned either.
