[Crysmus]

This grime-covered journal is bound in a thick green cover; many of its pages bare holes and tears, wrought by a mixture of low quality and significant use. The first half of the book consists largely of notes on the topic of chemistry and explosive mixtures. But upon the last few pages is the inane scrawling of strange pictographs and runes. The first bit of legible content past this point is written in sharp, scratchy Auran. It reads as follows:

I don't know what it was, where it was, or why its body swirled the colour of pitch and darkness, but I know that I am enamored by what little I recall.
Were I to know the portal's destination before, I cannot say for certain if I would have stepped in so willingly. The strange realm with no light irks me with its persistence around me - the darkness feels darker, the shadows feel deeper, and I look for those shaded figures around every corner.
I fear I am hallucinating whispers on the wind.
Accosted by raven with feathers as black as that place, it was unordinary with a strange intelligence - those around me called it an ill-omen, but I felt its presence as neutral if not friendly.
Though lost in the wood, I can still hear the voice that rustled in the trees behind its path. I must look for the blood of the raven.
I do not know the cryptic meaning, or if it is blood by my hand these being wish. But I understand them, and they do not discourage me - I heard them, and yet they spoke with words I could not make a mimicking mockery of, like I do those who live in the cities and trails.
I hunt for the ravens. I hunt for that place again, to bask in the presence of the creatures within. I hunt for the dark mirrors they coveted in their nest. I wish to hear their whispers once more, and I wish to speak to them as they speak to me.

[Crysmus]

In the pages between the last entry and the next legible scrawl are yet more strange runic circles, seemingly with no rhyme nor reason in the way they're organized. Infernal runes are accompanied by sylvan and abyssal all on the same page. One is written in a strange swirling language, a sign of those unspeakable horrors that lurk in the deep. Broken phrases are tied between sections of the pages, noting dates and locations in Auran. Such as 'The Hollow,' and 'Where Tentacle-men Are,' or 'Necropolis.' It seems that whomever is keeping this record of runes has no idea of their importance, or perhaps is doing so out of sheer instinct to recreate these drawings.
Eventually these symbols are replaced with a new entry, though still lacking a date. The scratch-like dethek written once more in Auran.

I have found a place to nest properly, one where I should not be disturbed. An abandoned house in the slums, near the Mourners' temple where I am unlikely to be found by anyone more than simpletons looking for an easy squat. The home is in shambles, but the basement is firm and secure - I even found a proper key for the door to downstairs, though not the front. I worry of thugs breaking in, but know that my presence is a well-kept secret.
Lugging a great many mirrors into the basement was not easy to do alone, but I believe I have found some that looked like those I saw in that dark place of shadows. I have scrounged where I can for the books that match those in that shadowy place's library, but have yet to find any. I speak little of it, for I know not who listens. But the shadows speak to me on the wind once more - they beckon me, push me to find them again. I have heard rumor that this place of shadows is controlled by a Goddess of darkness. I do not know who this god is that is so feared, but I intend to find her host so that I might be taught of her realm - the voice of her shades is so sweet upon my ears.
More rats attacked me recently. They seemed to possess a vicious, dangerous intelligence more than mere beasts. They ate at a monster beneath the ground, in the sewers until it rose to attack Caw and I. I have told the Boys, yet they do not listen.

Along the bottom of the page is a hastily written addendum, much less composed and far more aggressive in its nature:
The rats follow me. Always in the corner of my eye I see the rat that stalks me like a wolf. It stares, it knows something I don't know!