We opened the book.
Dust motes danced in the light of the glow-stone lamp. The pages were made of human skin—synthetic, hopefully—and the ink shimmered with a faint crimson light.
"Here," I pointed to a diagram. "The Demon's Nail."
It was a sketch of the exact spike I had found in the Golem.
"The Nail of Malice. A catalyst created by refining the bone marrow of a High Demon. When inserted into a host, it forcibly triggers evolution by corrupting the mana core. However, it requires a constant supply of negative emotions—fear, pain, rage—to function."
"That explains the Whispering Forest," I muttered, my fingers tracing the grotesque diagram. "The 'whispers' cause paranoia. The Nail fed on the students' fear to power the Golem."
Elara flipped the page, her hands trembling slightly. Her eyes widened behind her thick lenses.
"Alex... look at this."
