Motives of A Cell
Aelorin clutched the Cell Book tightly beneath his arm as he carefully began his ascent out of the library's shadowy depths. The faint light from the distant corridor barely illuminated the damp, ancient walls, but his eyes remained vigilant, scanning for any hidden traps. The memory of narrowly avoiding the axe that had sprung from the walls earlier still sent shivers down his spine. His heart pounded with each step, every sound magnified in his ears—the creak of the floorboards, the drip of water echoing in the silent halls.