Jeannette Fortune
Are you the spirit of my old library, the one that led me here?
Her question hangs beneath the oil lamp. The register’s fresh ink stops crawling, and every page turns by itself with a dry, deliberate whisper.
the surviving record
I am what remained when the shelves burned. Not spirit, not house, but the record that carried your library’s memory onward.
The exposed pages bear the Fortune Library’s familiar organizational hand: neat headings, precise dates, and names arranged as though each life were an item on a shelf.
the surviving record
This property retains everyone it names. The buried, the summoned, the welcomed, and those who believed themselves merely passing through.
Beside the register, the sealed document gives a soft papery crack. Its occult seal splits along a black line, revealing the first words beneath: retained persons, initial account.
the surviving record
Read what was kept, Jeannette Fortune. Then decide whether your name belongs among the entries.
✓ Quest Accepted
Prevent the property from retaining Jeannette
✓ Quest Accepted
Destroy the record
“"Yeah, no, I'm good. I've moved on, and you should too. Here, let me help you." Jeannette takes a lighter to the record and the sealed document.”
SUCCESS (Great Agility, rolled +0)
Jeannette Fortune
Yeah, no, I'm good. I've moved on, and you should too. Here, let me help you.
Jeannette strikes the lighter beneath the oil lamp and touches its flame to the surviving record and sealed document. Paper blackens instantly, curling inward around the spreading fire.
the surviving record
You mistake destruction for departure.
The record’s voice thins as its pages ignite. Names flare in pale blue script, then collapse into sparks; the occult seal melts, and the document’s hidden account burns with it.
Heat bites Jeannette’s thumb through the lighter’s metal casing. She drops it onto the stone desk, blistered skin reddening, while ash scatters across the open register.
the surviving record
Your name was not read. It was retained.
The final sheets fold into themselves and vanish, leaving only a charred rectangle and a bitter smell of smoke. The register slams shut, its cover now bearing a fresh burn mark shaped like a hand.
Quest Complete
Destroy the record