"The illuminated manuscript had seen healthier days: beige pages, faded text, damp-stained, except the page they observed, TE DAGEROS HUURS, ornate and ultramarine, above a silver horse with iron-red eyes, black flames spewing from the snout, rearing, revealing bloody hooves." : Excerpt from Volume 1, Issue 3
"On the night of my father’s 71st birthday, we burned an extra candle in celebration. His cheery disposition had quelled and slipped into morose. Feathers had grown across his arms in patches, and I could trace blood from the excessive scratching as they burned with irritation. Atarah tried desperately to persuade him to pluck them out, but that only made him more stubborn to keep them."