Scara sat alone in his dimly lit attic, the only sound being the soft patter of rain against the roof. His heart raced with a mix of excitement and trepidation as he leafed through the pages of an ancient, leather-bound book. The musty smell of the old tome filled the air, and the flickering candlelight cast eerie shadows on the walls. He had stumbled upon the book in a forgotten corner of an antique shop, its title faded beyond recognition.