The ink in the book had not slept.
Liam watched it churn through the night, its restless patterns etching maps of places that shouldn't exist—cities folded into deserts, forests growing upside down from cracked skies. Elena had spread scrolls salvaged from the Sanctuary's ruins across the floor, cross-referencing symbols, while Finn sharpened his blade with a grim focus.
"It's not just showing locations," Elena said suddenly, her finger tracing a line of jagged text. "It's showing *time*. These markings… they're dates. Some are centuries old. Others haven't happened yet."
Finn frowned. "How do you 'unhappen' a date?"
"Ask reality," Liam muttered. The cuts on his arm from the Author's tendrils still throbbed, the skin beneath stained faintly black. He'd hidden it from the others.
The book shuddered, ink pooling into a single phrase:
**Find the First Page.**
Elena leaned closer. "First Page of what?"
