Dominating this silent sanctum was a dais, elevated and commanding, at the center of the chamber. Upon this stone platform stood an ornate pedestal, intricately carved, perhaps telling a tale of its own. But what drew their collective gaze was what rested atop it. An ancient tome, its leather binding appearing both weary from age and defiant in its endurance, was bound in chains and sealed with a lock. The emblem on the lock seemed eerily familiar, a mirror to the marks that adorned the hands of Toki and Articius, its metallic surface gleaming with an inner luminescence in the dim light.
