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.
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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
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