By the time the last candle flickered out in the corridor, I was still sitting in front of the book.
Caspian Arvell.
A name that meant nothing, and yet gnawed at me like something half-remembered from a dream. The pages of the book remained stubbornly blank to ordinary eyes—but I wasn't just relying on my eyes anymore.
With a flick of my wrist, I activated the Grimoire of Patterns. A silvery shimmer passed through my pupils as the skill aligned my senses to detect subtle, repeatable phenomena—shifts in mana flow, embedded sequences, pattern echoes. It didn't immediately unlock the book's secrets, but it did confirm one thing: this was enchanted.
Deeply.
And recently.
Which meant someone had planted it.
"Books with zero text and maximum attitude," I muttered. "I swear, one day I'll just fake my own death and open a bakery."
