As the doors swung inward, he was greeted by the musty tang of old paper, which cut a welcome dichotomy with the rancid malaise outside and granted him welcome reprieve. It smelled old, and moldering: not in the way of rot, but in the way of decaying books and old wooden shelves.

The smell was familiar to him, and comforting as he stepped over the threshold and onto the, surprisingly, clean floor.

He became acutely aware of his feet as they trailed in the refuse from the street, a pinkish brown sort of sludge which left sinful footprints on the aged marble. No sooner had he stepped into the large spacious atrium, than a young man appeared from the darkness laboring under the weight of a mop and full bucket.

The young man made quick work of the floors and waylaid Eli with a pleading expression pointing to his boots before motioning him firmly, but not unkindly to a nearby chair.

Pleasantly surprised, Eli took a seat in the chair accepting the proffered rags, for which he used to delicately clean the grime from his feet. The young man hovered nervously nearby glancing at intervals towards the doorway.

The young man was probably no older than Eli, somewhere around twenty summers, and compared to the other residents of Veerus city, he was remarkably unblemished aside from a sheen of sweat that slicked his skin and a feverish puffiness that marred his face.

When he looked up, Eli noted his bright blue eyes, the color of a crisp noon sky. The color would have been beautiful, if not pleasing were it not for thin spidering veins of red that splintered across his yellowed sclera. Sensing Eli's eyes, the young man ducked his head nervously and proffered the bucket to which Eli returned the rag.

The flustered man bowed low to the ground and scurried off to the corner of the room, though even from a distance Eli could still sense the presence of his piercing crystal gaze.

Eli ignored him, stepping across the open floor and over to the circulation desk where a gaunt woman sat, what remained of her hair tied up into a tight bun, so tight he half expected her scalp to peel away.

"Your name?" The woman asked sharply.

"Eli Collins."

"And your title?" the woman asked.

"Information Broker" Eli watched the woman's eyes as they fell to his skin and traced their way up to his face.

Where the young man had looked at him with an expression of deep abashment, this woman gave him the expression of a hungry vulture. "And your recommendation?"

He smiled slightly as if to ease the situation but realized his mistake too late when he saw the woman's teeth: rotting and blackened inside her mouth. He quickly closed his lips and nodded, reaching into his bag and holding up a clean piece of parchment.

"This is my broker license. I am sure that is authentic enough for you."

She narrowed her eyes and reached over to take the paper. He held it back, "If you don't mind."

Her clammy talons closed shut on thin air, and the look on her face almost withered the skin from his bones. He had worked very hard to forge this seal, and he was not going to allow her to get her disease all over it.

Her lips twisted together like the writhing bodies of two pale worms, but finally she spoke, spitting the words out through what remained of her clenched teeth, "Go on then."

He nodded, and carefully folded the letter back into his bag, turning and walking around the circulation desk, feeling her eyes pacing steadily at his heels.

Once the circulation desk was out of sight, Wink peered up from inside the bag, "Ingratiating yourself with the locals I see."

"It would seem so."

"Mop man seemed rather fond of you."

Eli snorted quietly as he turned to walk around another cabinet, "Fond of my skin more likely. If I didn't know better, I would worry that these people are under the influence of the Mutilation, and just wish to take my skin for themselves."

"What a pleasant thought, you would certainly make an excellent lamp shade, or perhaps a stylish pair of pants."

Eli remained neutral, "Really, do you think so little of me that the best I can do is a pair of pants, not even a nice pair of boots, or elegant gloves."

"Have you looked at you recently? I thought I was being generous."

Eli cracked a half-amused smile walking through pools of wan light as they streamed in from the skylights above. The light was poor for reading, distorted by windows that had never been washed and the ever-present mist of stink and death that lay over the city, a visible orange hue that spilled like a murky cascade into the room.

This was hardly the time to be picky. He should be thankful that the room was clean, and relatively sterile: a welcome reprieve to an otherwise wretched city..

He wandered up and down the rows of books for some time, his eyes scanning over the embossed spines with their golden leaf embroidery and copper edges. So out of place next to poorly bound paperbacks yellowing on the shelves, mimicking the decay of the city outside.

"What exactly are we looking for?" Wink wondered.

"Old records of the history of Veerus, or perhaps the Affliction itself. Anything we can find that might shed some light on the subject of the Dreads and what it was like before they came into being. If we can find any volumes like that, we may be well on our way to discovering what techniques may be used to counter them.... If any."

It was evident by Wink's silence, that he was not particularly convinced that such a volume existed, but he let Eli keep looking.

Overhead the sky grew dark, the mottled sun was replaced by the flickering of a hundred oil lamps lit around the city and about the room.

The light was not much good for reading , as he found himself shrouded in pools of dark making it difficult to see what was written on the spines of those neatly lined up volumes.

Rain began to drum on the glass overhead, at first a soft pattering, which quickly turned into a loud cacophonous drumming.

He imagined the rain washing a wave of infectious water from the city and into the canals that led into the bog, pink with the discoloration of blood and puss.

It was this loud drumming sound that left him unaware of his surroundings, until the moment he turned and nearly walked face first into the young man from earlier. Eli nearly leaped out of his skin, jumping into the air like a startled cat –or, in this city, a startled rat.

The young man backed away quickly, bowing his head repeatedly, "Sorry.... Sorry. I... I just came to see if you needed any help."

Eli stared at the young man, hunched and forlorn in the darkness, staring down at his boots. As Eli's eyes moved over him, he could not help but notice a small white flower pinned to the front of his shirt: A bog lily, perfectly white against the murky brown of his shirt.

The flower struck him as strange and even... sad somehow, and so he sighed long and deep before taking on an air of tired politeness which was the best he could do for now, "If you.... must. I am looking for a volume on the history of Veerus city. I have looked most everywhere but your cataloging system seems to have me lost."

The young man lifted his head, bright blue eyes lighting up in pleasure, "I have just the thing!" As quickly as he had appeared, the young man turned on his heel and sprinted into the darkness only to reappear, sheepishly a moment later, "This way please."

With a hopeful smile , Eli followed quietly after, walking to catch up and stepping into pace beside the young man, who beamed at him from the candlelight, "My name is Peter."

Eli nodded, "A pleasure.."

He tried to ignore the bright blue eyes boring into him with a waiting question, "Eli....a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

He watched as Peter's eyes flicked briefly down to examine hi, passing briefly over his clothes, his bag, his hands, and then back up to his face, "I...I've never met someone from outside affliction before. Where are you from?"

It seemed that even Veerus city was not powerful enough to kill the need for smalltalk.

"The outskirts of Desolate," he didn't even need to bother being vague with his answer: The Desolate was a vast place stretching over a greater distance than should have been possible. To say he lived on the outskirts of the Desolate was similar to saying he lived 'around'.

"Oh.... that must be.... must be lonely."

"I think the word you are searching for is peaceful."

"I.... I guess."

Eli chided himself for his harsh tone. The young man didn't deserve the behavior, no matter how natural it came to him, and Eli found himself pondering how, despite living under the eye of the Affliction, this man was still touched by the Exclusion.

Eli could hardly blame him for striking up a conversation. He was limited to talking with either a warty puss riddled half corpse, or a sweaty librarian.

Eli certainly knew what his first choice would be.

"It is lonely sometimes, but I find it preferable to my other alternatives." That was perhaps the understatement of the century, but he was hardly about to discuss his personal history with a complete stranger.

Eli realized quickly that he had said the wrong thing, watching as the young man looked down at the feverish skin of his arms and face. He wrapped his arms around himself, "Oh.... Yeah...."

Eli sighed deeply and closed his eyes for a moment wishing for just a moment he could return to the Desolate, to sink into it's sweet silence, but he shook off the thought and forced himself to reach out a gloved hand, tentatively resting it on Peter's shoulder, likely a gesture of comfort the poor fellow hadn't received in a very long time, "I am sorry, Peter, that wasn't a commentary on you."

Peter forgave him easily after that, soaking in the comfort of his touch like a moldy sponge soaks in water.

"Here we are!" Peter announced, pointing excitedly to one of the shelves, "The histories of Veerus.. I... it is a rather small section, but hopefully you can find something."

Eli held up a hand, "Thank you, I can take it from here."

His dismissal did not go unnoticed, but still Peter hovered around for a few minutes before eventually backing away head down and promising to come if Eli needed anything at all. Eli's mind, however, was already far from the young man as he turned towards the wall of books before him.

Peter was right, it wasn't a large selection, but it would do well enough, and Eli spent a few moments perusing through the titles, making himself a small stack on the floor.

The History of Veerus.

Affliction and Its Affiliations.

A City on the Bog.

and

A Compendium of Major and Minor Dreads.

With a grunt, Eli picked up the stack of books and walked them to a small reading table at the back of the room. The wood of the table was old, and twisted, slightly decayed In some spots like a troop of termites had chewed partially through the wood before stopping abruptly.

Eli sat down gingerly in the chair provided, hearing it groan and squeal in protest under his weight. He waited for a long moment entirely expecting the chair to collapse under him, though it held with only the slightest of protest when he shifted his weight.

He changed his gloves and flipped the first book open, his trained eyes scanning down the page.

Off to the right, he set up one of his father's old notebooks, quickly jotting notes side by side with the text as he read.

The rain continued to drum on the roof overhead, and if he had bothered to look up he might have noticed Peter watching him from the darkness behind one of the shelves. a look of concern shadowed Peter's face as he peered around the bookshelves on his way towards the circulation desk.

Eli was still far too engrossed in his work to notice.

After the first few pages he became acutely aware that this volume did not hold any new information. It was simply a recapitulation of those things he had already seen committed to the compendium in his father's library.

The first chapter was filled with a minor history about how Veerus had been founded, lacking any sort of meaningful analysis or in-depth additions.

Flipping through the rest of the book he could see that it contained much of the same trite information the first chapter had already spouted, beginning with a minor history of the rise of the Affliction – an analysis so simple it could likely have been used to teach children.

Affliction rose to one of the major powers after the Extinction Epoch when both major and minor wars created an environment rife for the spreading of disease. A virulent plague had washed over the land decimating armies far faster than the war itself, leaving both sides without the people or equipment to fight, and the bodies stacked like rotting monuments to human sin. Plague pits had hardly been enough to contain the deceased as numerous as they were and so the corpses had been left to shed sickness back into the air.

That is when, they said, Affliction had taken hold of men's hearts.

Perhaps if it had been a more insidious plague, killing by way of secondary factors like pneumonia, or heart failure, then no one would have noticed, but this plague killed quickly and flamboyantly.

One day a body was perfectly healthy, and the next expiring in a pool of its own blood as their internal organs began to bleed and liquify.

Not at all pleasant, and so viscerally terrifying that it had –scholars argued—been the single event required to grow Affliction to such a monstrous state.

Survivors, those that were either immune or simply lucky, turned to the bog as their last safe haven, and, after years and years of confused and fearful worship within their strange blossoming city, they became known as the Outbreak, serving the young Dread as its acolytes and spurring it on to power through fear and chaos as they attempted to infect as many unsuspecting men and women as possible, and keep hold of those that were unlucky enough to fall within their clutches.

Eli knew the story.

In fact, he had written a short analysis on the subject focusing on the differences and similarities between how the story was told and in what region. It had been published at some point, but that hardly meant anything in a world like this.

He doubted anyone would read it other than stuffy old scholars too old and decrepit to use the information for anything other than literary discourse.

Needless to say that writing papers was the least lucrative of his practices as an information broker.

Eli pushed the book to the side and then moved onto the next copy.

The Affliction and its Affiliations was a little more detailed, but served mostly to compare Affliction to the other Dreads and pontificate – at great length – which of the Dreads it might ally most commonly with.

Demise and Agony of course. You didn't need to be a literary or historical genius to make that connection.

He set the book aside and picked up the next, which had less to do with the history of the city and more to do with the architecture of the city itself. Despite being completely useless to his research, he found it more than fascinating, delving into the author's thoughts on the construction of the city as a sort of extension of Affliction itself, a giant apparatus designed specifically to house the God.

The horrible pit at the center, the city streets designed to slant inwards so that the corruption tended to build up, the overflow pipes just to assure it wouldn't get bad enough for anyone to drown -- Affliction wanted people sick, not dead --and its location next to a bog, whose heavy, humid air tended to lay low to the ground, keeping the feted air tight around the city as a stagnant pool of disease that could not be blown away.

And the more sickness that was eked into the bog, the more efficient the system was supposed to be.

He copied a map of the city into his atlas for later reference, and then set it aside with the others.

The last book was the most intriguing, and he opened it in hopes of finding answers. He was just gearing up to read the first page of tightly penned letters and sharp jutting script, when there was a soft vibration at his table, and he looked up to see Peter looking at him.

He grimaced sheepishly, "Sorry, didn't mean to disturb you."

Eli felt his face twist in annoyance but paused as his eyes fell upon a book resting on the table just under Peter's hand.

"What do you have there?"

,"I... oh well it.... it's nothing really, I just....it's just a book that.... that I like. And I.... well you seemed so serious, and I thought maybe it would.... Maybe you would like to read it.... not now of course... obviously not, but it.... it's a good book, you, you'd like it. I mean I would hope you would like it, I like it."

Eli raised an eyebrow, "I.... thank you for the thoughtful gesture but I.... really must be getting back to work."

Peter nodded then bowed, "I'll just leave this.... here." He said before turning and scampering back into the shelves.

A distant streak of lightning cut a forked path across the sky overhead and Eli shook his head and turned his attention back to the book.

A Compendium of Major and Minor Dreads.

Chapter 1 Classifications and Equations.

There are three major Dreads, classified and compiled as: the Physical, the Existential and the Social, which has subclassification of Carnal, Speculation and The Mass. There is a scholarly debate as to which set of fears if the longest lived. Most scholars agree that physical fears exist in childhood before either Social or Existential fears can develop.Therefore, following this logic it is suspected that the physical fears were the first to manifest, followed closely by the social fears, as related to human evolutionary traits, and finally the existential fears which rose up only after the maturation of human internal philosophies.

Now this, this was more like it. He turned the page pleased with what he saw. The text was thick, and overly prolix; however, he could sense there might be some shining tidbits of information like nuggets of precious metal that fall as sediment to the bottom of the river.

He read on

Agony is often cited as one of the first major dreads to be listed in the historical timeline. Literary historians have documented at least 40 suspected cases of Agony mentioned in early Epoch texts before any other Dreads are mentioned. However, other schools of historical analysis argue that Demise is the first and most logical appearance of Dread, considering that Demise has existed as long as humanity itself, and is mentioned almost continually in Extinction Epoch texts. Another school of thought argues, though briefly, that Agony and Demise are equally as old and exist in cohabitation . Defying all three schools of historical ideologies, some sociological parties argue that it has little to do with what Dread came first historically, but which Dread comes first during the life of a human and is therefore more ingrained. Existential and social fears are taught, so it must be physical, and Agony is something even a babe fears.

It was the sound of an opening door that interrupted him this time, and the accompanying cacophony of the drumming rain amplified tenfold over the cold, hard marble.

He recognized the sound of the outbreak before he saw them, their wheezing, hacking coughing along with that consistent wet moaning was hard to ignore. He stood quickly wincing as his chair creaked, and frantically grabbed for the last book he had been reading. Book in his left hand, satchel in his right hand, he backpaddled into the darkness between two pools of flickering candlelight, their reaching tendrils dancing around like eager fingers ready to point and give away his position.

"Where-is-he?"

The voice that spoke was in every way as rotten and diseased as the body it belonged to. It was wet and rattling, wheezing with great gasps and croaking with great effort.

Despite no greater context, Eli knew they were talking about him.

He slowly walked backwards into the shadows, keeping his footsteps silent over the marble as he slid his satchel over his shoulder and dropped the book inside. He breathed slowly and evenly, despite his heart which pounded against his ribcage.

His eyes trailed downward falling on the red leather cover of the book Peter had brought him, still sitting on the table, for a moment Eli thought about leaving it, but found he didn't have it in him, and quickly slipped from the shadow to grab the book, stuffing it into his bag before backing into the darkness once more.

Shadow covered him in safety, and he watched through a bookshelf as Affliction's acolytes filtered in through the doorway, spilling over the threshold, leaving a trail of vile fluid, pink turned black in the dim lamplight, like snails trailing their slime.

Eli felt his face go hot, just thinking about these.... people- no! Not people: These creatures who trailed their unholy filth into a library. The thought made him so angry that his nausea from the smell almost completely vanished, and he had to clench his fists to keep his hands from shaking.

Shaking at the injustice, he sat there in silence knowing that he could do nothing to stop them.

At the far end of the room, He watched the librarian sit back in her chair, an almost smug look crossing her greasy face.

He knew at that moment who had called them.

His cheek twitched in a sudden raging desire to tip over one of the shelves onto her smug head, but he held back crouched there in the darkness as the Outbreak began to fan out across the room.

Eli looked to his left, and then to his right. He had no idea how he was going to get out of here.

And then a hand fell on his shoulder.

He jerked upright, nearly bashing his head against a shelf as he turned, expecting to see the open cavernous sinuses of one of those.... those things, but was so relieved to find Peter that he had to take a long deep breath. The man stared at him with his wide blue eyes, and motioned him with one hand to follow, a gesture that was almost immediately negated as he grabbed Eli by the hand and began tugging him back through the shelves.

Eli went along, holding his satchel tight against his body so it would not flap around and give away his position.

The guttural wheezing of the Outbreak grew louder and louder, and they both ducked quickly as one of the oozing creatures passed down the opposite side of the shelf. It turned its head further as if sensing them, and Eli dove forward, Grabbing Peter around the chest and forcing him to the ground just as the jaundiced eyes passed over the shelves.

They lay on the floor, belly down, barely daring to breathe as they watched shuffling feet pass by them on the right.

As the feet vanished out of sight, Eli rose into a crouch, and Peter did the same, glancing over at him with a thankful expression as the two of them inched forward through the shelves.

They made it to the other side of the room just as the Outbreak were growing agitated.

"Where-is-he?" Their leader gurgled, slapping a weeping hand against the top of the librarian's desk. She flinched back, smugness evaporated as she stared into the sweating sores on the man's face.

From where he knelt in the darkness, Eli could see the muscle flexing in the man's face, stretching with white tendon and meaty red muscle. If he had not served the affliction; death surely would have taken him by now. Though with how desiccated the creature was, it was made abundantly clear that Affliction would not allow him to die so easily. Much of the man's skin had rotted away, leaving large holes in his neck and face, and chest, which was mercifully obscured by the man's shirt: A shirt covered with stains ranging from the yellow of pus to the brown of dried blood. He could not stand on his own, and so sat on a chair, almost like a throne, which was carried by four of his counterparts. Beside him, Eli could sense Peter's head turned away, out of disgust or fear Eli couldn't have said. It seemed strange that he would behave so adversely towards something he experienced every day.

Eli placed a hand on Peter's shoulder assuring him he was still there and glancing down, he saw a large eye staring at him from inside his bag.

He nodded, and Wink inched his way out of the bag to peer behind him and Peter, as their lookout.

"I d-don't know," she stammered, "He was just.... just over there in the reading section."

"Where-could-he-have-gone?"

The woman shrank back in abject terror, as little flecks of pink spittle flew from the man's cracked and bleeding lips."

"I.. I... don't..." she paused, eyes wide and frightened, clearly regretting her decision to call for the Outbreak. "The reading section, I swear he's in the reading section!"

Under his hand, Eli felt as Peter went rigid with fear.

The door was so close now, but Peter was frozen, eyes fixed in terror upon the twisted creature and its thrown.

Eli glanced desperately about, knowing their escape fell solely upon his shoulders until his eyes fell on the door just behind the circulation desk. If that proved to be a way out, they would only have to make their way past the librarian.

Eli scooted forward over the ground.

Outside, the rain grew even louder, until it seemed as if it would shatter the glass and come thundering inside, wetting the books, and washing the building clean of knowledge.. Eli's heart hammered in his chest. Just to the side of them, another one of the Outbreak was passing by sniffing at the air like some kind of hairless dog, though with his nose in that condition, Eli doubted it would pick up anything, especially not over the smell of his companions, which had now filled the room with the rotting stink of their sickness. There seemed to be more of them than there had been before, and their search had grown feverish.

Seemed so much work for just one man.

Their leader turned on the spot, wispy gray hairs billowing from the top of his scalp, clinging for dear life, holding fast to the cracked and oozing skin by way of dried discharge.

It was now or never. Eli reached out, grabbed Peter by the arm, and dragged him forward in a crouch praying the sound of the rain would cover their footsteps as they hurried towards the door, passing just feet behind the librarian.

They made it to the door, and Eli shouldered it open, pushing Peter inside, and into the back office of the building.

It smelled, sort of sweet like rotting fruit.

The door was just beginning to close behind him, when a pale hand lashed out and caught the door, long yellow nails digging into the rotting wood of the doorframe.