Chapter 4
The Unseen Hand
Strange occurrences plague Alistair's research. Objects move, whispers echo in empty rooms. The entity protecting the sanctuary makes its presence subtly known.
The air in Dr. Alistair Finch’s study had always been thick with the scent of aged paper and dust motes dancing in stray beams of sunlight. Now, however, a new, unsettling aroma seemed to permeate the room, something akin to damp earth after a storm, or perhaps, the faintest hint of decay. It was a scent that clung to the edges of his senses, a subtle reminder that his quiet world, once so meticulously ordered, was beginning to fray.
He had been pouring over the cryptic journal, its brittle pages whispering