Katherine turned the pages carefully, mindful of Ruel's wary glances. The red markings along the edges pulsed faintly, as if responding to her presence. Despite Ruel's earlier warning, she couldn't tear her eyes away from the script—it was ancient, yet strangely familiar.
As she read, the text unraveled itself in her mind, the meaning seeping into her thoughts like ink spreading on parchment.
Katherine traced the faded ink, the ancient script curling elegantly across the brittle pages. She read aloud, voice low.
"Magic is the language of the world, but not all tongues are meant to be spoken."
"Of all the colors woven into the fabric of mana, none is more feared than red."
Ruel frowned, tilting his head. "That's what it says?"
She glanced at him. His eyes were locked onto the text, but there was no recognition in them.
"You can't read this?" she asked, surprised.
Ruel huffed, crossing his arms. "Do I look like a scholar? It just looks like scribbles to me."
