You force your way into your neighbour’s manor, only to find an eyeless corpse next to a knife and a book in a puddle of blood. Out of curiosity, you pick up the book and read the last pages:
"Diary of Lord Edward S. Davenport , son of Eleanor T. Davenport. Renowned Cilucithionian Archaeologist”
“Journal entry number 457, Tuesday, May 6th 3241: My last discovery:”
-According to an old Cilucitionian legend, it is said that there exists an antediluvian manuscript containing the scriptures revealing the secrets of Eil’udom. It is said that reciting the writings is forbidden. These scriptures were written in an arcane dialect by the eyeless ones - the “Typhlodians” - in which rituals of astral projection to enter Eil’udom were “exposed”. Rumours said that whoever tried to decipher the dialect would suffer the same fate of the Typhlodians: Punished by the gods - left deformed and sightless. My quest to uncover the secrets of these scriptures then began. Town-folks would think I lost my mind, fearing the Typhlodian spirits would bestow a curse upon me. My helpless obsession led me to a subterranean temple, where the book was kept in secrecy. And after returning to the village with my prize, I could already smell the fumes of death surrounding me. While reciting the strange incantations, I went into a deep slumber – which took my spirit in the cursed dream world of Eil’udom, and inside a subterranean sepulchre. The sepulchre was filled with mangled bodies – Pale, emaciated eyeless beings. The corpses started to convulse and move. I realized I was cursed by the typhlodians. And with their empty eye sockets - fathomless abysses of terror, they stared at me and whispered my name. I deeply gazed into their empty stare. Endlessly screaming, I beheld my own death. Night after night, these nightmarish beings came back to haunt my dreams with their empty, eye-less stare. But the manifestations soon became more frequent, even during day-time. I pray that the gods will forgive me, and that someone will find this journal upon my death and burn the scriptures. For I, Edward, must now remove my own eyes. In death, I will find peace. I cannot bear seeing their horrific stares anymore.
...By the gods, they are in the windows !
As you finish reading the last sentence, you turn the other pages of the book, and notice numerous spots of blood on the blank pages. You close the journal and slowly walk away from the corpse, but as you back away from the gruesome scene, you hear a cold, otherworldly voice whisper something behind your ears: