Grace stood in the library, her brow furrowed in concentration as she focused on the ancient tome before her. The musty scent of old parchment filled her nostrils, the weight of the book heavy in her hands. She took a deep breath, her lips forming the unfamiliar syllables of the binding spell.
"ᎶᏞᎬᎥᏢᏁᎥᏒ," she whispered, her voice echoing in the stillness of the library. The words felt strange on her tongue, the consonants harsh and guttural, the vowels elongated and alien.
She reached out, her fingertips brushing against the spine of another book. She could feel the energy thrumming beneath her skin, the power of the spell coursing through her veins. With a flick of her wrist, she bound the two books together, watching with satisfaction as they snapped into place, held fast by an invisible force.
