Rubbing his eyes, Crowlin turned another page in a tome he’d been perusing. He’d spent the past four hours in the library, sifting through the many tomes of ancient knowledge, searching for a book that would offer him insight on the origin and culture of the mask pried off the face of the attacker. Yawning, he closed the tome and picked up another one, opening it. He’d gathered all the books on masks he could find, but none of them had yet offered him any insight.
With the candle burning low and the night late, Crowlin skimmed through the pages, with Myrrdin sleeping next to the candles lighting the table he was at. As Crowlin flipped through the pages with half-lidded eyes, he passed a through a section where masks appeared to be discussed in great detail. Pausing and flipping back, he caught sight of the same mask he’d pried from the attacker’s face. Perking up, Crowlin poked Myrrdin.
“Myrrdin, I found it.” Crowlin muttered. “Here it is. Mask with wide eyeholes, measured cuts in the side, and nothing to represent the nose and the mouth. It’s called the Kahu Ifera, a mask of malefic wisdom. Supposedly saturated with dark magic, it enhances the magical abilities and cunning of the wearer.”
Myrrdin yawned, stretching. “Where does it come from?”
“Hmm.” Crowlin murmured, flipping back to the front of the section. “This section deals with mythical masks from far eastern cultures-”
“Crowlin!” Sage panted, dashing around the corner with Kashé, Deviån, and Coriko. All four of them were dressed in combat gear, with their swords belted by their sides. “Come, we must go! A mob has formed, and they’re looking for you!”