Historian at the Fall of Atlantis
The volcanic ash spewed into the sunless sky, like fire emitting from a dragon's mouth, extinguishing the emerging moon and stars. He ran blindly, frantically, unable to see his own flailing arms still clutching his precious scrolls. The forsaken island quivered beneath his feet as earth-shattering tremors sliced deep rifts like an invisible knife. The howling blasts of wind threatened to uproot him as he reached the shores at last, panting breathlessly. As he scrambled into the last remaining boat, a towering monster of water and froth approached to swallow him. He could no longer cheat death after escaping from wind and earth and fire, and his painstaking chronicles would die with him.