A Fly in a Web

I can hardly read the last entry. For good reason, I suppose. I can hardly gather my thoughts even now, but time doesn’t stop, no matter how much I wish for it. I will try to look at the events of the past days as a scholar and historian. With that in mind, we went to the meeting, Tara, who is as mysterious as the Shroud itself to me at the moment, disguised himself as our victim, Gary, but sadly, we were quickly found out. No matter, we found our way onto Gary's phone, which yielded better information than I had ever hoped. A warehouse in the Shadestone district was our new target. We approached it, whispers of the Shroud seem to haunt us wherever we go now, funny how merely weeks ago I was completely oblivious to the organization that now follows my every move. I can’t tell if I feel more like someone peeling back the layers of a mystery, or a fly that becomes aware of a web only after it gets caught. The bliss of ignorance is a drug that even the strongest willed amongst us crave. The branch of the shroud that occupied the warehouse, at least, seemed unaware of our actions. We caught them unaware, slipping past the guards (with a bit of help from me, I must say that I am getting better at this criminal lifestyle) and got into the basement. This is where we found the extent of the Veils' knowledge about my family's condition. She was sitting in the basement, I could see the dust gathering on her shoulders. I wish I could tell you her name, but all I can give you is guesses, I have since poured over the family records, but there are names stretched out, from hate or grief I could not say. But none the less, I could make out an Isy from the closest female relative that is unaccounted for, the rest of her name is blotted out by thick lines of ink that almost pressed through the page. So that is how I refer to her going forwards, as her captors seemed to lack the decency to refer to her as a person. We soon met the man who caused her instantaneous petrification, a blood priest who seemed as knowledgeable about my history as myself. We made quick work of him, whether I should’ve struck him down while he was vulnerable. But that was yesterday's mistake. I have made plenty more after that. The rest of that night is a blur, I could hardly think, we had to leave Isy down in the basement for the time, while we went up to face the manager of this branch of the Shroud, we found someone had already beat us, a fiery red head who we sided with in battle. After we defeated the shroud general (Which at this point is a given), she introduced herself as Mira Quinville, the daughter of the Firebrand court. After a short round of introductions, she offered us a job, to help her take down the Shroud. She quickly took us back to her house (Really a mansion, the kind of place my mother used to claim that our estate used to be), where we rested for a night.
The next morning was one of quick movement, she quickly dispatched us around Dominveil to research and gather information about our common enemy. Ferox and I were on book duty, while Tara and Chula interviewed the priest. I was more than happy to explore the vaults she directed us to, but with the assurance that when we came back, I would have my time alone with the priest. We learned much and more from our trip to the library, I have notes about the ascension, the veil itself, bloodlines and more importantly, my family's curse. But there was more information, and more risk, with the priest. My thoughts kept slipping back to that cursed man as we worked. And at the end of everything, there was only him.
I made a mistake, maybe the biggest mistake of my life or beyond that. The priest knows about my curse, he’s been studying my family and his only answer to my questions was the ascension, the word seems to lurk behind everything in the Shroud, just as mysterious as everything else. And I knew I needed him, he knows how and where to do the rituals. My friends were talking about killing this man whom I now knew was one of my only hopes. Maybe I brought shame to the Stormrune name, a Fey bargain is low for someone, my mother used to say that the Stormrune name is a heavy thing to bear, but nothing that’s valuable is light on your shoulders. I buckled under the weight today, and I shook his hand, the tattoo on my arm burns, like he had just pressed it into my skin with a hot iron, the skin around the tattoo is raw and red. But what worries me more is the bit of skin that has no colour, the fleck of grey. It has started, and I don’t have time.