Alaric stood alone in the dimly lit study, the Shadow Grimoire resting before him on a table draped with rich crimson velvet. Its dark cover seemed to pulse faintly, the arcane runes etched into its surface shifting as though alive. Shadows deepened around it, casting the room into an otherworldly gloom. Alaric felt the weight of its power, a presence that seemed to tug at his very essence, urging him to open it and unleash what lay within.
He turned to Gilbert, who had just entered the room, his usual steady composure briefly faltering as he regarded the Grimoire. Gilbert, ever loyal, sensed that this endeavor was more than a mere study session.
"Gilbert," Alaric said, his voice firm but quiet. "While I absorb everything within this Grimoire, I don't want to be disturbed. Whatever comes, see to it that no one enters."
