Little truth is known about the Shadow Queen, only scraps of information scattered in aging tomes, in the dark corners of archives. The most recent encounter exists only in the tattered remains of a missive that never reached it's intended destination.
It is my earnest hope this letter finds you with speed. My time spent seeking information pertaining to this supposed "Malign One" has hardly been bearable. Vicious little shadows have made a game of putting me through annoyances nightly, in such a manner as to prevent rest. At first I thought I was at risk of possession, for they seep out of the night and into my quarters, to claw at the edges of my bed as my lantern flickers down. As the darkness devours my sight, they seem to disappear. It is only a momentary ruse, for when inky blackness has settled, the real trouble begins.
I can list many mischiefs they perpetrate, but I need tell you only of the worst: the scratching. It is unceasing -- scratches on the window-sill, scratches on the floor, scratching on the plaster ceiling that dusts the room by morning. Even my lantern is covered in tiny furrows.
It may be thatthey serve this WretchedOne, the one you speak of by name as Naofa Racht. In fact, I'm certain it must be by She whom they are commanded, and she is wary of my presence in her territory. I know not what your affiliation is with this Lady Hellion, but I cannot continue the research you have instructed me to keep. As such, I eagerly submit my resignation. You need not forward my pay to any address. My freedom and my life are enough."