The Alchemist Of Wickmouth

​Another day, another screech! I can't finish my calculations when these horrid vultures keep passing by! Why must our lighthouse align so closely to their migration route? If Lord Vorgoth hadn't ordered the quarry to be shut down, surely they would've nested elsewhere... but I'd be wise never to voice that thought out loud. Not if I want to keep my tongue, at least.

​Even with these winged distractions, my work is almost complete. Soon, we'll be able to light our signal flames and burn our mark into the wintry sky. I call them "Balefires". They'll be a useful warning system when the great beast makes its return, but I am concerned. The passing vultures seem enraged by it... I better finish my project before they return.