The air inside the meeting room felt a little heavier now, as if some great current had subtly shifted with the mention of the mysterious note. A hush blanketed the table as Luke's question settled into the minds of those present. Everyone here had heard about it at some point—tales of how, even while unconscious, Luke's hand moved with purpose—not twitching, not flailing—writing and repeating lines of symbols or phrases again and again, as if something was guiding him beyond this world.
It was Ilyrana who first noticed it. Back in the cathedral, when everyone else had thought Luke was unresponsive to everything, she remained by his side. And there, she saw it—his fingers twitching rhythmically, over and over. Not like a spasm, but like a deliberate motion. Controlled. Like a pen repeating strokes. It wasn't long before she got the idea to test it. So, with what little tools were nearby, she tied a stick of coal to his hand and placed a parchment beneath it.
