You lose track of yourself within the city as you flee for your life. Your feet move of their own accord. The beating of sinewy wings and screeching of creatures above you spurs you onward. Soon you find yourself running down a narrow avenue, passing a set of heavy iron gates. You are in a dead end - a court with tall, old houses on either side. You turn back toward the entrance and breathe a sigh of relief as you see the sun rising once more over the skyline of Paris. As though dispersed by the sunlight, the figure that had been chasing you folds into the shadows and vanishes. Just as you are about to leave, you spot a plaque next to a red-brown door atop a steep, narrow staircase. It reads: "N. Engram."