Silas Gravemorne, an aspiring author battling a severe case of writer's block, stood on a ladder, disdainfully flinging books from a dusty shelf.
"Ugh, this won't do either," he muttered, sliding the ladder to a new section of the grand study.
The room, filled with three towering bookshelves—one facing the door, the other two mirroring each other—was dominated by a wooden table and chair, where a lit candle dripped wax onto the surface. Scattered books lay strewn across the red carpet, testament to Silas's frustration.
"Still no good," he sighed, the deadline for Hummels Publishing Company—the most popular in the land—looming just a month away. He needed a breakthrough.
Earlier that day, his mother had suggested visiting his great-great-grandfather Eric's study, hoping the room of a long-dead ancestor might spark inspiration. Eric Gravemorne, a figure from over a thousand years ago, had been a key hero of the Wraithborne Era, a period now a century in the past.
Yet, the Gravemornes had used this title to place themselves as an important figure in the world. Their wealth and fame came from this title, earned by their ancestor.
All this didn't move Silas, he wanted to make his own path. Becoming a popular author.
Everyone has always praised him for being like Eric, who everyone believed also wanted to become a popular author but was stopped after the Wraith Era started. What a blow!
****
As Silas reached for a red volume, a dusty brown book next to it tumbled from the shelf.
"Well, that's certainly suspicious," he murmured, intrigued.
He climbed down, picked up the book, and brushed off the dust. On the first page, a name was clearly inscribed:
'Eric Gravemorne... Year 999.'
"Ah, this is his book," Silas realized, a flicker of excitement replacing his earlier despair. He settled into the chair, placing the ancient book on the table, and began to read. He turned the page, expecting a title, but instead found a captivating narrative:
"Earth was in total darkness. Always had been, for as long as I could remember. They said the Sun disappeared after the Great Wind, a century ago... No one really remembers it disappearing. No one remembers the Great Wind itself. We couldn't argue with the elders; they said it happened, so it happened. Nothing but endless darkness, that was our reality. But... we heard the whispers. Tales of those who saw a spark of light, who sensed an end to the darkness, living with some terrible knowledge they couldn't unravel.
...Then the day finally came. A warmth I'd only ever dreamed of touched my skin. A faint glow on the horizon deepened into a brilliant, blinding white. Humanity was reminded of sunlight. After a century, it was finally here. What beautiful sunlight... So this is what sunlight feels like... But... What came with it was... Undead? Zombies? No. They're called Wraiths. They came with the sunrise. They were just the living dead, we thought. Shambling, soulless husks. So we thought. But... Even the dead have their own mysteries yet to be unraveled. Mysteries that threatened the existence of humanity and questions the living.
Wraiths... Our only enemy... Kill the dead... Our only goal and motto... But..."
Silas's eyes widened. "So this is a book from the Wraithborne Era... Why so many 'buts'? So much suspense and mystery... Was this Wraithborne Era even real?" He hesitated for a moment, then eagerly flipped to the next page.
It held just five words:
"Chronicles of the living dead."