The Final Scholar

The Fall of the Oodast Empire did not happen immediately. Slowly, the Empire fell apart, the elites turning on each other in a vicious war of succession that left cities in ruins, territories shattered, and thousands dead. Rumors ran wild from the remains of the aristocracy, full of magical and divine intervention. Every corner of the empire had their own story of how the Oodast ate themselves into oblivion.
One such tale came from the City of Shadows far to the South West. A scholar of the First Eye had locked themselves away in one of the many towers of the Great Library. Attendants brought food and drink, but they did not see the scholar for almost a month. Such instances were not unusual to them; many scholars did not wish to be disturbed when they found something worth studying. It wasn't until one of the attendants smelt something foul coming from the room that the authorities were brought in.
The Chief Librarian unlocked the door, but it had been magically sealed. It was another two hours before they were able to dispel the powerful magic and enter the room. They found the tower room in shambles, books, scrolls, and tablets scattered across every available surface. The windows had been fastened shut, locking the sweltering heat inside. Two attendants hurried to open the windows, wafting cool air into the room. 
The scholar was tucked away in a corner, rocking back and forth. Clerics and doctors were brought in to tend to him, but the scholar showed no sign of being aware of his surroundings. His teeth were chattering and he whimpered, clawing at his face and eyes as he babbled.
One of the attendants had the foresight to bring paper and quills and began to write down what the terrified scholar said.
"Smoke. Smoke everywhere. Like oil. Clinging. Dripping. Knives in the dark. A smile full of fangs. Bloodlines that mingle and mesh and perish in smoke and oil. A puppeteer laughs behind the curtain. She's watching."