What appeared to be a leather-bound cover of the book opened.
Even though there was no breeze, the pages flicked over, back and forth by themselves, before stopping at a certain page. The top corner was folded down, covering some of the text that was written at the top. The number 16 was clearly visible.
On the page was an illustration of a window in an old stone wall, the window surrounded by ivy. Inside the window, a man’s face appeared… a strangely familiar face; he opened his mouth and said, in my mind, “Not yet”.
The book slammed shut.
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