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- See also: Sha-Brytol
A torn page from Shaper Valta's hand written journal was discovered among trade correspondence delivered to Skyhold this morning. The Inquisition's courier could not recall how or when it came into her possession.
Renn's murderers hide in the shadows, watching me from a safe distance. The Sha-Brytol saw the Titan favor me with the gift of shaping stone. I am more powerful than they will ever be. They fear me. They love me. They understand I am a part of the Titan they defend, but they don't realize it doesn't need their protection. It never has. Whoever these dwarves once were, whatever motives drove them to remain here, now they are only lost.
I don't sleep anymore, but sometimes I stop to listen. Yesterday—or was it an hour ago?—I became aware of a Sha-Brytol who had crept close enough to leave an offering: an empty suit of their armor. Did they think I would wear it? Lead them? All their gift did was summon the image of my dead friend as I returned him to the Stone. I left the armor where it lay.
Tomorrow—no, it was just a moment ago—I enter one of their towers. I sense how rapidly they flee my approach. They think I come to destroy them, but I don't have to get close to do that. I'm just curious to see how they live. Do they live? The tower offers no answers. It is quiet and spare, reminding me of descriptions of the topsiders' temples to their gods. Are the towers temples? Fortresses? Both, perhaps.
Only one chamber provided anything of interest to me. A domed, circular courtyard held a pool of the Titan's blood at its center. Empty suits of armor sat neatly in a circle around the pool. Is this where Sha-Brytol come to be entombed in their metal skins? What smith makes this armor, and where does it come from? My lost kin are hiding something. They have a thaig somewhere.
I have no interest in finding that citadel of the Sha-Brytol, but another might.