A/N—I own nothing. Nothing at all. Michael Scott owns everything.


"Eeeek!"

With that very feminine, very embarrassing display of fear and disgust, Will dropped the scroll to the ground, where it rolled around in little circles, narrowly missing the gigantic bug that had crawled out from the inside.

The scrolls were generally well-kept, but of no use to Will—the information they contained was relatively recent, or too old. In fact, it almost seemed as if there was a chunk missing—like a bite had been taken out of history.

Will stood still on the ladder, peering down at the ground below, where the scroll slowly ceased its revolution.

That one had been different. He'd sensed it. Why else had it been shoved in the very back of the highest shelf, like a princess locked away? Why else had it stuck to the stone, almost as if something had been clinging to it? Why?

He climbed down slowly; reluctant to reach the floor, which he had a feeling had to be crawling with bugs by now—how many had fallen from the older scrolls that he pulled out? At least twenty, he was sure. He shuddered.

Once on the ground, he stooped, picking up the scroll, ignoring the sticky feel of the parchment. It cracked a little as it opened, but stayed relatively unharmed.

He moaned.

Odd shapes—some fluid, some choppy—were scattered in a haphazard manner all across the scroll. Up, down, diagonal: there was no rhyme or reason. He didn't even recognize the language. Scanning the scroll, he found that the language changed constantly. One section was in the script he had already noticed, later parts seemed to be some sort of rune (not one he recognized, which ruled out Celtic and Icelandic), and some areas had absolutely nothing written on them at all.

Giving up, he was in the middle of snapping the scroll shut when something caught his eye, and he laughed aloud.

Cuneiform figures marched steadily along the sides of the scroll, the reddish ink shimmering with a light of their own.

It paid sometimes, he decided, to have Palamedes as a friend. One of the first things the Saracen Knight had done had been to teach Will the language of his youth. A quick scan of the figures revealed absolutely none that Will didn't at least vaguely recognize. Good. He grinned happily.

He sat down on the ground by his candle, desperately hoping that it would last long enough to let him read a little of the scroll.

Warriors of the future...death...destruction...no one...

When he finally pieced everything together, he felt sick.

Warriors of the future: something I dared not tell you when we met, but something that I know that more curious of you will discover. The world is about to tremble beneath your feet—death and destruction will wreak havoc in this city. This is necessary. But there is more.

Soon your numbers will decrease. Soon some of you will disappear, perhaps to never be found.

This is a mystery that has defended Danu Talis since its beginnings. All those who threaten the safety of this world are taken. This mystery now puts the future in jeopardy. Solve it—destroy the monster that endangers the world's future.

The battle for Danu Talis begins now.

The scroll fell from his trembling fingers. His breath came in short gasps of terror. Something growled behind him, and a gust of hot breath almost blew him over. He spun around, and didn't even bother trying to be masculine in his reaction.

He screamed. Loudly.