Catacombs - Room 8

You feel dread. A mass of dark crimson energies engulf the room. Your eye is drawn to the robed figure presiding over this place. Suspended by mystical forces, he kneels on a red cloud. Below him a trio of skeletons bows in supplication, as if worshipping an idol. Their adulation is directed at the hovering tome. Crackles of lightning seep into it. The robed figure speaks in a deep and stern tone:

You should not be here. I guard the Book of Syndor. Do not touch it. Leave now.