Many moons had waxed and waned since the last incident. Yet, inevitably, it had happened again.
A sacred tome had vanished from the public wing of the Oracle’s Library.
Not merely misplaced.
Not borrowed.
Stolen.
The book in question was no ordinary volume. Its contents were deemed too extraordinary - too dangerous - for common eyes. Access to its chamber required the direct presence of a librarian or Oracle to unseal the warded door. And yet, somehow, someone had slipped inside and escaped with the tome without triggering a single alarm, leaving the staff on duty unsettled and whispering theories beneath their breath. No locks were broken. No wards disturbed. It was as if the intruder had simply belonged there.
Whatever was written within those pages was never meant to be seen by the uninitiated. One careless glance could leave a reader permanently scarred—mind, body, or soul. The book had to be recovered and resealed immediately, before fate placed it into the wrong hands.
A summons was quietly issued across the city to any available shinobi - or enterprising students - willing to earn a bit of extra yen. Those who answered the call would receive a sealed scroll upon arrival at the library. Breaking the wax would reveal the briefing:
At the front desk, awaiting the fortunate or perhaps unfortunate soul who would take on the task, sat a lone, cloaked figure.
Their mask was a work of elegant craftsmanship, its smooth curves suggesting the visage of a fox or perhaps a cat, depending on the angle and the viewer’s imagination. They remained perfectly still, a silent sentinel amid the quiet murmur of the library. Around them, patrons browsed shelves for stories to escape into, recipes to attempt, or curiosities to rent or if their coin allowed, to purchase.
None of them seemed to notice the weight of the moment.
A sacred tome had vanished from the public wing of the Oracle’s Library.
Not merely misplaced.
Not borrowed.
Stolen.
The book in question was no ordinary volume. Its contents were deemed too extraordinary - too dangerous - for common eyes. Access to its chamber required the direct presence of a librarian or Oracle to unseal the warded door. And yet, somehow, someone had slipped inside and escaped with the tome without triggering a single alarm, leaving the staff on duty unsettled and whispering theories beneath their breath. No locks were broken. No wards disturbed. It was as if the intruder had simply belonged there.
Whatever was written within those pages was never meant to be seen by the uninitiated. One careless glance could leave a reader permanently scarred—mind, body, or soul. The book had to be recovered and resealed immediately, before fate placed it into the wrong hands.
A summons was quietly issued across the city to any available shinobi - or enterprising students - willing to earn a bit of extra yen. Those who answered the call would receive a sealed scroll upon arrival at the library. Breaking the wax would reveal the briefing:
At the front desk, awaiting the fortunate or perhaps unfortunate soul who would take on the task, sat a lone, cloaked figure.
Their mask was a work of elegant craftsmanship, its smooth curves suggesting the visage of a fox or perhaps a cat, depending on the angle and the viewer’s imagination. They remained perfectly still, a silent sentinel amid the quiet murmur of the library. Around them, patrons browsed shelves for stories to escape into, recipes to attempt, or curiosities to rent or if their coin allowed, to purchase.
None of them seemed to notice the weight of the moment.
