The Peacock Guardian of books shook his head solemnly. "Nothing burns it. If Lutherieth already holds the knowledge to create monsters, then this notebook might be the key to ending this twisted cycle, at its root. I promise I'll keep it hidden."
Ren hesitated, then gave a small nod. She wasn't sure she trusted anyone here, not completely. So she wrote the copy in ancient Fae, a language only the Saints and the high Fae could read. Her grandfather, she knew, still had ties to the heavens. She clung to that hope, threading it into a plan she prayed would work.
But one thing was certain, leaving this fatal knowledge in the hands of mortals was not an option.
"You're writing it in that language?" Arcane asked.
"Yes. It's better this way," Ren replied, her eyes never leaving the page. "If Luther or any madman gets their hands on it later, they won't be able to read it."
"You don't trust me," the man said with a faint smile.
