Rain lashed against the library window. Shadows danced across the dusty bookshelves. Professor Elmwood lay slumped over his desk, a quill pen still clutched in his hand. His spectacles had fallen crookedly onto his nose, reflecting the faint glow of the fireplace. A thin trail of blood trickled from his temple, staining a page of open parchment. The air hung heavy with the scent of old books and something metallic, foreboding.