I peer at the scrap of paper between my fingers curiously.
"Someone left a note in the book," he says, tying up his long hair away from his eyes. Ithuriel leans over to indicate the book with his index finger, proving its source.
"It fell out, take a look," he prompts, and taps me lightly on the shoulder. I sniff, rubbing my eyes once more.
"Fine, fine," I mutter, and draw the scrap of paper up to my eyes to interpret the tiny scrawl of writing- small enough that I might debate that someone didn't actually want me to read it. At least, it sure seems that way. As my eyes get more and more blurred from tiredness, I find myself debating asking him to read it out for me, then quickly decide better of it.
Sure enough the note reads:
"To stay hidden from the mind soul's power:
