The entries were dated, but not in any sort of order. The fifth of May followed the first of June, and 1920 was noted as often as 2501. The pages were very fine, quality paper with a high rag content, the sort of paper that would last centuries, and the ink was in various states of fading, iron gall ink rusting, or more modern liquids slowly dyeing to purple. It was the sort of book that someone would carefully purchase, and keep, if they wanted to be sure of its survival from the days of Khemet rising around the Nile to the sputtering sparks at the end of it all as the last humans winked out.

The pages held secrets, to be sure. But without the key, without the hand that wrote them, they might be unrecoverable.

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