It's been a few hours since we left the small town of Ashinlu. The tiny dot that I could still see through the window's makeshift carriage from before is now hidden by the trees of the surrounding forest. With it, the conversation I had with Imaya, slowly receded in my mind.
"It's dangerous to travel near the borders. Where are the two of you headed?" The kind herbalist who volunteered to guide us as far as he could uttered with an inquisitive tone.
"We're going to the capital." Azrael conveniently answered while matching the speed of the carriage with his weird horse that has never once stopped snorting at me every chance it got.
Like master like pet. I shifted my gaze away from them and snapped the curtains shut to ward off the annoying sight.
"Ah. I see. It is safer to take this route, but you must still proceed with caution... Especially since you will soon pass through the land of the faeries."
My ears twitched at the fancy name he mentioned.
"Land of the fairies?" I repeated curiously.
"Ah. It's believed to be the home of such creatures because of a few unfortunate deaths. In reality, they were only caused by poisonous plants. Knowing the young miss, however, I know you won't have any problems moving forward. Your knowledge far exceeds mine." He laughed merrily like a proud father while I muttered an incomprehensible reply consisting of a grunt and an awkward laugh.
The carriage suddenly shook and I almost fell out of my seat if not for my quick reflexes. My bag fell off the seat, however.
"Sorry 'bout that, miss. The road's unpaved going forward."
"Oh it's quite alright..." Not actually, but hey, can a luggage complain? I quickly bent down to retrieve my things when I noticed the book from the merchant peeking out of my string bag. Of course. When's a more convenient time to go over it than now? I made sure that the curtains are tightly shut before pulling it out of my bag.
It says Theology on the cover, but the second page revealed a different title.
G̵̨̧̦̟͙̞͙̙̟̎͌͂̍͗͌̔͠ļ̴̧̲͙̟͓͈̗̱̉́͆̔͒̓͑̀̈́́o̶̡̲͎̰̪̬͙͑̊̃́̈́̉͆̿ṡ̶̥̹̱̯̻̃̑̐̍͛̃̚̚ͅş̵͈͔̻͖̻̱̯͎̜̓̓͆̿̈̿̕͘͝ä̴̧̛͍͓̪̥̭̞̼͙͓́̍̋̉͐r̴͈̔̄y̵̧̲͓̤̿͑͛̿̐̓̂̚͝ ̸͚̥͚̼́̔͂̚ȯ̸͕̀͐̆͗̅̌͝f̷̰̬̦̲͕̰͔̠̔́ ̷̞͒̅̋̕͠Ë̵̝̯͂͐͋̃͝͝l̴̤̙͓͓̮̰͚͓̓̓́̒̂̀d̵̨̛͓͎̺͚̗̰͓̤͈̆̉͛̈̇͗r̶̢͍̜̞̜̳̙̓̋́̾͗̋̏̀͝͝i̶̢̭̳̠͕̲͔̦͍̿̇̑̇̊̉͜c̸̫̖̓̈́̓̃̒̉̏͑̆ͅḩ̸̧̻̖̩͊̊̒̒̈ ̶̡̛̛̦͎̟̩̬͉̬̺̞̓̌̂͂̆͆͘C̵̡̢̧͖̭̼̘͒́̒͋͊͌ŗ̵̛̘̣̥̕ͅe̷͚̘̮̲̙͎͈̫͗͗͗̊̀ǎ̵̛͕̞͎̿̆̂̕͝t̵̢̛̩̯͙͉̩̱̐́́̈́̕̚ų̷̥͍̥̙̮͔̓͌̂͋̀̓̍͘͝r̴̰̣̩̞̣̾͗̌̕͘e̷̡̛̲͒̉̇̋͊͋͛̈͝s̸͇̘̩̩̜̳͉̹̼̟͗̎̅͐̇̎̕͝ ̴̡̨͚͓̮̩̲͇͒̅̓̾͑̾̚͜f̷̧̳̤͙̩͚̗̑̃̎̇̀̃̐͆̈́ǫ̷̢̞̪̹̲̦̗̪͈̓̂̋͐̓̽̍̈́͝ŗ̶̥͂̑̋́̃̏̑̊͝͝ ̵͙̜̈͋t̸͇̅̊͋͛̚͝ḩ̵̨̺̺̲͔̟̦͔͈̂̀̊̂̍͝ē̶̠͉̥̖̰̥̘͎̍̕ ̷̢̩̘̰̭͚̣͕̲̞̈̄N̶̡͓̭͇̩͍̫̺̭̦͂̄͋̅̊̿̌ǫ̸̮̹̤̖͇͔͑̉̆̌v̴̢͉̼̜͓̣͌͒i̶͈̦̥̓̀̂̈̑͐͊c̵̘̭̩̔͛̓̊e̴͚̱̩̾̈̃̌͒͐͂̒͠
There is no table of contents and two blank pages later, a beautiful hand writing greeted my curious eyes.
Ǎ̶̬̞̠̙̄̒̐́m̷̞̌̀̽̋͗m̴̞̹͔̺͉̩̪͆̄̽̽a̶̷͎͚̖̺̺͕͛̿̉͆̃͊̾̕̚͘Ṫ̶̮͉̿̐̄̕͠ḥ̴̯̜̜̹͎̯̖̈́͒̏̚ͅȩ̸̙̙̬͍͉̼̹̇ ̷̢̨̥͈͔́̏͜ͅg̴͖̣͘o̴̞͚̥̥͖̼͐͆̇͝d̵̫̀͊̿̊͋͆̆̎͐͝ ̷̘̠̟̈́̎̎̉͋ó̴̦̭̪̔͂̌̐͘͝f̸̡̮͙̏͑͝ ̷͍̫̎̏̾̑̆̉̊̍̄̓a̶̪͌̄̈́̓̓̀͘̚͘͜l̴̡̦̞̺͔͔̉͐̆l̷̻̜̟̘͐͒͂̽̓͗͘͠.̷̠̬̇͋͂̚ͅ ̸͓̙͎͓͉̩̲̅͒͊͜L̴̲͒̅ī̵͉̜͊f̸̠͉͙̺͒e̸̘̥̞̤̻̬̬̒̅̀̄ ̸̛̛̘̫̻̒͂̅͝a̶͜͝n̷̤̹̮͎̓̇̾ď̶̨͕͖͈̞̠̱̥̏̀̓̎̅̔̀̀ ̸̧̙͔̤̺́̈́́̋d̵̨̛̜̥̗̼͐̈́e̴̦̾͐̀̽̚͝a̶̪̺̼͔̋̈́̈̀̃ţ̵͍̣̯̼̒̽͒̌̎̆͘ẖ̶͎̤̲̙̙̙̟̫̠̈́̎̽̈͗̕.̵͙͍̲̭͇͊̏̈́ ̵̟̀̑̓́́́̋̕̚͜T̷̞̭̖͖̪̤͇̹͖̑͘h̵̬͓̘̭̓̏̄̀́͂̚ͅe̴̢͓͈̲͖̩̮̬͐͝ ̴̡͇̩̫̘̄̇͌͑͂͠b̵̡͕͕̯͔̻̙͙̄͝e̸̢̥͓̭̝̳͛̒͂̆͝ͅg̴̢̖͍̹̱̝̬̜̅̄̽̄̔̊̕̚͝g̵͓̻̳̓̋̆͋̾̄̔̕͝i̸̝͕̓̃̾n̵̡̨͔̯͎͎̉̍̆̇͒̂̋͠ĭ̵̙̪̽́͝n̶̤͉̜̈̈̓͗̂͘͘͝ġ̶̡̖̙͎̈́̀̂͘͝ ̸̡̬̗̤́ͅo̸̧̡̨̮̗̮͛̚͜ḟ̸̧͕̩̭̮̫̼̿̐̅̔͗̋̓̍̑ ̶̥̐̊͑ͅL̶͉̅̂̊̆i̷̝̘͔̜͋̂̃̾̃̾̓̉̑g̸̱̝̜̩̉́ͅh̵̗̖̥̪̀̄̉̾̃̌͝ẗ̴̗̼͉̾͊̔́̈́͆͘.̶̬̟͎̯̘̟̩̩̹̱͛͆̾̈́̈́̈͑̑̒̕ ̷͕̐̆́F̴̮͖͖͖̩̠̫̼͆͜a̵̮̎́̆̌̔͝t̸̩̥͇͂̒̅͋͆͘̕h̵̺̜̖͚͎͑̏͌̈̈́͆͘ȩ̵̥̞̫͚͚͝r̴̡͔̮͍̥̠͉̞̃̃͑͝ ̴̡̡͈̙͇̳̫̳̜͉̿̈́͊̒̚o̴̹̕f̴̭̲̭͇̺̻͙̞̠̽́̏͆͗ ̸̡̫͓͔͊͊͋̀̐̚P̵̨̲͚̦̝̟̅̉a̶̛̳̜̜̼̜̦̍͜͜ͅt̸̟̘͍̩̪͙̄͐͆̓̓̈̾̒͠a̶̯̹̖̹̽̏̔͝r̷̩̈͛.̶̡͈̦̟̲̼̫͔̬͊̑́̔ ̷̝̟̖͉̭̦̰̼̓̄̊͛̿̚͝T̸̙̏̎̌̈́̑ḩ̷̨̙͙̜̫̻͔͔̰͌ȩ̷̨͔̞͈̫̼̬̜̈́́́̉̓͊̄̚̕͜͝ ̷̢̭̝͓̹̺̰̠͋͂̔̔̍́̄̊͜á̸̦̀̌̾̓d̴̛̘͇̣͎͙͍͓̼̦̈́̑̽̂j̸̢̨̛͇̖̑̇̆̀̊͜u̵͔̱̠̪̩͖̓̄͛̒̈́̕͝͝ͅć̵̢̮̭́̓̏̀͠ä̸͇̲͕̲͖̺̺̞͍͑ͅț̵̨̲̫͈͚̓͋̔̐͛͂͆͝͠o̴̝͖̞̠̮͍̟͂͑̽̌̍̓̇̕r̵̹̞̞̪͓̮͔͔̍͐̄͐̚͘͝
