Kane ran his fingers along the jagged edges where pages should have been. The cuts were clean but irregular, like someone had torn them out in a hurry rather than carefully removing them.
"That's weird." He flipped through the remaining pages, counting. At least six or seven pages were missing from what should have been the appendix section.
This was just some human-written mythology book—nothing classified or valuable.
Kane shrugged, chalking it up to vandalism by bored young spirits who probably found the terrible dragon illustrations offensive.
He was about to close the book when something fluttered to the floor.
A small piece of folded parchment, yellowed with age.
Kane bent to retrieve it, unfolding the note carefully.
The writing was cramped and hurried, covered in symbols that looked like absolute gibberish at first glance—swooping curves and angular slashes that hurt his eyes to follow.
