1: The Charcoal's Cur
Fifteen-year-old Maya blew a layer of soot off the antique, leather-bound sketchbook she had bought at a rainy flea market. The pages weren’t normal paper; they were dried, yellowed vellum that smelled of copper and old smoke. Tucked inside the binding lay a fragment of ancient, obsidian-black charcoal. As her desk lamp flickered, a sudden, unnatural cold gripped the room, and her hand moved on its own, dragging the dark stick across the blank page.










very good keep going