Master Oz moved to one of the central tables, his fingers tracing over a carved structure that looked like a palm housing several mystical rings in all fingers.
"Your summon," he said quietly. "I don't know its name, or if it truly is what I think. The records I've uncovered never specify it. But they speak of an ancient book. A grimoire that has been passed down through the ages."
He looked up at Altair.
"What's strange is that I've failed to identify the pattern of this passing. There's been no clear bloodline, or consistent holders. It simply... appears. In the hands of someone new. Then vanishes when it's holder passes. This cycle continues over and over again across centuries."
Altair felt the weight of the Codex in his soul-bond, pulsing quietly like a second heartbeat.
"That's why I got interested when you manifested something similar in appearance," Oz continued. "A dusty old tome. Bound in materials I couldn't identify. Radiating power that only a few can perceive"
