In many ways it is a sad story, which I regret has no real happy ending. Yes we were able to subdue my late master and employer, Claude Eldridge, but at the cost of our own sanity and morality. My dear Felicity battled for years with her own inner turmoil before having to be locked away in a specialist cell at Black Sparrow where she is tended to daily, shrieking still about seeing demons and dancing shadows.
I too can still see them pawing at the walls of the study in which I write. Enticing me into despair, screeching for the freedom we denied them this evening twenty years ago. With the falling of their summoner they were trapped, remaining nothing more than shadows.
My now good friend Doctor Oliver Ainsworth suggests I leave the
building in which the dark events (which will be explained in
time, patience please) took place this evening twenty years
"Dear God Philip," he urged of me "Let those grim specters have their fortress, we have won. Without Eldridge they cannot escape. Leave!"
Oliver resigned as chief medical advisor of Black Sparrow when they allowed me to publish my writings. "Let the dead lie, Philip." he scolded me.
However I write this for a number of reasons, the main one being so that if a reader feels the stare of some unseen eyes glaring at them from some unlit fireplace, or sees the dancing ghouls of old folklore creeping out from under their beds that they can arm themselves with the knowledge to slay the feeling.
Also I should warn those with any love for their immortal soul to place this tome back upon the shelf you dragged it from, for you will gain no virtue from reading the truth about the evils that exist the in the worlds next door to our own. In fact your virtue will likely be measured by how far you are able to read through the insanity that is soon to follow.