Everyone huddled around Orion, their eyes fixed on the ancient scroll as he carefully opened the first page. Anticipation lit up their faces, but as the seconds passed, their expressions shifted to confusion.
"What's going on? Th-this… it's completely blank!" Michael exclaimed, snatching the scroll from Orion's hands. He flipped through the pages—one, two, three—until he reached the very last. All blank. No images, no text.
"What a joke! We've been tricked!" Naima stomped her foot, frustration bubbling over as she crossed her arms.
A tense silence settled over the group. The only sound was the faint rustling of the scroll's yellowed parchment as they stared at it in deep thought. Nearby, Professor Elton's furrowed brows hinted that he had noticed something unusual. Orion, sensing this, approached the professor and gently pulled him aside.
"Professor, you've noticed something, haven't you?" Orion asked, his voice lowered but steady.
"Orion," Elton said, glancing at the scroll, "have you ever heard of the 'Book Without Words'?"
"The Book Without Words?"
"Yes. It's a term from ancient Rome, when wars were constant, and secrecy was paramount. To relay critical intelligence, spies used a powder ground from a type of shellfish found in the sea. Once dried, the writing became colorless and invisible, creating what we now call a 'Book Without Words.' These scrolls were reserved for the most classified messages. I believe this scroll employs a similar technique. The writing won't appear unless the correct conditions are met."
"Correct conditions? Professor, this isn't your lecture hall!" Naima interrupted, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "What's next? A magic potion? Ha! What a joke."
She laughed bitterly, shaking her head. Her disdain for educators was palpable, rooted in a past she rarely shared. If not for her rocky history with teachers, she might never have dropped out of school so young.
But neither Elton nor Orion acknowledged her cutting remarks. They were too engrossed in their discussion.
"Professor," Orion pressed, "is there any way to make the writing appear?"
"There is," Elton said, his gaze returning to the scroll. "The shellfish powder reacts to acids. When exposed to something acidic, it undergoes a chemical reaction, turning the writing red. If we had something like lemon juice…" His voice trailed off as he glanced around the room. "But here, in this place? Finding anything acidic might be impossible."
Orion fell silent, his mind racing. The gears in his head turned as if searching for a solution buried just out of reach. Then, suddenly, his eyes lit up with a spark of realization.
"Professor," he said, an excited grin spreading across his face. "Wait here—I think I might have just the thing!"
Orion paused for a moment, his face pensive. Suddenly, his eyes lit up. "Professor, maybe… Just give me a second," he said, his voice tinged with excitement.
"What plan? Wait, wait—what were you two whispering about just now?" Michael interrupted, frowning.
Orion ignored him and walked toward the rest of the group, his gaze sweeping over each person's belongings with intent precision.
"Hey! What's the plan? What's going on here?" Michael pressed again, his voice growing louder, the irritation clear. His incessant questioning grated on Orion's nerves. For a moment, Orion seriously contemplated punching him, just to knock him out and silence the noise.
Then, his eyes landed squarely on Naima's face. He didn't move, just stood there, staring at her without saying a word.
"What? Don't tell me you're falling for my beauty now," she said with a playful smirk. Lifting her left hand, she gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, feigning aloofness as she turned her head to the side with a flourish of false pride.
Before she could react, Orion raised his hand and lightly brushed her ear. She flinched slightly at the ticklish sensation.
"Ah—ah! What are you doing, Orion?" she protested, her voice laced with surprise and annoyance.
Orion didn't answer. In one swift motion, he plucked the golden earring from her ear and strode toward Michael, ignoring her shocked protests.
"Orion! That's my gold earring! You better not ruin it! It's real gold! Expensive!" Naima screeched, clutching her ear as she followed after him, her voice rising in pitch with every word.
Michael shifted uncomfortably as Orion approached him, eyeing him warily. Orion's gaze scanned him up and down, his expression unreadable, making Michael feel even more unsettled.
"What… what are you looking at?" Michael asked, taking a cautious step back.
Orion didn't respond. He leaned in closer, sniffing the air around Michael. Immediately, his face contorted into a grimace. The stench was overwhelming—a rank combination of stale sweat and exhaustion from hours of relentless running.
"God, you stink," Orion muttered, wrinkling his nose in disgust. His attention shifted to the damp bandana tied around Michael's head. Without asking, Orion reached out and yanked it off.
"Hey, man, what the hell?" Michael protested, but Orion ignored him.
The bandana was soaked through, so saturated with sweat that it felt like a sopping wet towel. The smell hit Orion hard, and he instinctively recoiled, gagging slightly.
"Jesus, Michael, do you ever take a shower?" Orion snapped, pinching his nose to block out the stench. He held the bandana up like it was a biohazard and turned to Naima, tossing her earring and the bandana together into his palm.
The rest of the group began to gather around, curiosity etched on their faces.
"What are you doing, Orion?" Halia asked, her eyebrows furrowing in confusion.
Orion said nothing at first. He gripped the bandana tightly, squeezing out the sweat into a small puddle on the ground. The liquid trickled down, pooling at his feet, and Orion carefully dropped the earring into the sweat.
"What the hell is that supposed to do?" Michael asked, his voice dripping with skepticism.
The liquid began to bubble faintly. Little pockets of foam surfaced, rising and popping in quiet succession. Orion's lips curled into a satisfied smile as he turned toward the professor.
"That's it," Orion said with a note of triumph. He picked up the bandana and earring, carrying them carefully toward the old parchment.
"Can someone explain what the hell is going on?" Michael demanded, his frustration mounting.
Professor Elton chuckled softly, shaking his head in a way that suggested both amusement and admiration. "He's making an acidic solution," the professor explained. "Saltwater, combined with the metals in the earring—copper, iron—it creates a reaction."
"Wait a second," Orion cut in, smirking as he glanced in Naima's direction. "Didn't someone just claim this was made of gold? Because it's clearly cheap, copper-plated junk."
The jab hit its mark. Naima's face flushed with embarrassment, though she tried to maintain her composure. "You—ugh! That's none of your business!" she snapped, folding her arms and glaring at him.
As their voices rose in heated bickering, the parchment before them began to shift. Its surface shimmered faintly, the lines of text rearranging themselves as if coming alive.