The air inside the grand archive was thick with the scent of old parchment and the faint, bitter tang of Meridian dust. Master Diaz turned the heavy page of the ancient tome, his clawed fingers tracing the faded ink. He didn't look up as the heavy iron doors clattered open behind him. "So, did you look through the book?" Prince Phobos’s voice was like velvet drawn over cold steel. He stepped into the dim light of the candlelight, his long cape sweeping the stone floor. "Yes," Diaz replied softly, his voice low and deliberate. "But I’m still analyzing." Phobos halted beside the massive reading desk, leaning down until his shadow completely swallowed the open text. "Is what it says in the last passage true?" Diaz finally paused, his eyes lingering on the cracked leather