The Sanguinaris Archinorum

Book. Tome. Grimoire. Any of these descriptors would suffice for an uneducated glance upon the colossal binding of vellum and ink that it truly was. But to the Kirin Tor, for the limited time that they possessed it, the Sanguinaris Archinorum was not merely "just" any of these things.

Simply opening the Sanguinaris was a task with a price. Some small offering of blood, which its unnatural leather cover would greedily absorb, was normally enough to suffice. But then its pages, finally exposed, were blank. Unwilling.

Scholars who spent the most time in its presence alone, casting spell after spell in an attempt to decipher the secrets it kept, often claimed to hear whispers in the chamber with them. They were described as disquieting. And those who only reported hearing whispers were considered to be the lucky ones. Other Dalaran scholars invested in the Sanguinaris returned to their colleagues with stories of nightmares and visions of Azeroth's destruction that were as visceral and real as any true memory.

With Kel'Thuzad's corruption still a fresh wound within the newly rebuilt Dalaran, the Sanguinaris' thirst for blood and unnerving experiences were deemed to be too perilous a pursuit. The Council of Six instructed those in keeping of the tome to lock it away and to turn their studies elsewhere. And yet in times of war, espionage and intrigue run rampant.

A San'layn infiltrator long and expertly disguised as an apprentice mage cast aside their facade. Their interest had been piqued by the tome's proclivity for blood or perhaps something more that the Kirin Tor had yet missed.

One last time, the vampire stole away into the deepest libraries of the Violet Citadel and then disappeared with the Sanguinaris into the night.