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[color=#663399]Location:[/color] The Neverish, Strange Academy
[color=#663399]Grimore:[/color] 
[color=#663399]Skills:[/color]
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The darkness outside deepened, allowing the shadows to play. Annika’s chest felt tight while she watched. Shapes disappeared as quickly as they formed, giving the illusion that something was out there, but nothing came forth. She sighed and turned away from the window.

A foreign language tickled Annika’s ears, and she looked at Rohan. Japanese? Interesting. Annika felt her cheeks warm and turned quickly away, busying her hands by looking at what bubbled in the stew pot. She knew she liked Rohan, but she didn’t realize she was starting to [i]like[/i] Rohan.

A delicious smell of rabbit, pork, and chicken hit Annika. She inhaled, her stomach grumbling in response. Vegetables bobbed in and out of view, tempting Annika to have a taste. However, she knew that was a stupid idea. Sort of.

[i]Slam![/i] 

The sudden noise in the small room made Annika jump back and spin around. She looked around frantically, finally seeing Rohan on the ground with the book he had been looking at firmly shut in the middle of the table. She swallowed, approaching the table.

The last time she had read a book that had a mind of its own, it almost killed her father. Her hand shook as she reached out to touch the cover of the journal, ignoring Rohan’s warnings.

The whispers of a long-dead language she couldn’t place filled her ears. She shut her eyes, cocking her head as she strained to hear the sorrowful sound, tinged with longing and regret. Annika’s chest ached. Whoever wrote this had once lived a full life, perhaps full of strain and misery. Annika was sure of it.

She opened her eyes and pulled her hand back. [color=#663399]”Should we bring the book back with us when we go?”[/color] Would it willingly leave this world? And if it did, what would they bring into the next?”

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[color=#B22222]Location:[/color] Mikkail’s Sitting Room, Strange Academy
[color=#B22222]Grimore:[/color] Predatory Instinct; Dragonic Morphing; Hunter’s Mark
[color=#B22222]Skills:[/color] History
[color=#B22222][url=https://i.pinimg.com/736x/da/fa/ec/dafaec20243bb508b2a9584dc0437af3.jpg]Fit[/url][/color]
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Cal (or was it the dragon within?) grumbled at Nick’s reassurances. He stepped aside, unblocking Cassie and Willow. He turned to look at them, but not in a way that left his back exposed to Jake. He was on edge with all these people around his injured coven members. As for Nick’s comment about the night before, Cal simply nodded once.

Cassiopeia’s sudden shift in her reactions had him kneeling at her side, ensuring the book was out of her reach and Jake’s. He doubted the others would try to take it off him.

[color=#B22222]”Cassie, my love, this was not your fault,”[/color] Cal said, brushing some of her hair behind her ear. [color=#B22222]”I asked you to do something you might not have been fully comfortable with, and we stepped into that risk willingly. Those of us accepted into Strange Academy are made of sterner things. We can handle pressure, we can handle pain, and we can handle things when they do not go our way. I admire your fire and your need for revenge.”[/color] The fire in Cal’s own dragon eyes continued to burn even as he spoke tenderly to Cassie. [color=#B22222]”But this journal has answers we need. I will not ask you to take this task on again. I will take it to Mikkail’s tower and glean what I can. After that, if the book remains, we can destroy it together. This is the best I can offer you.”[/color]