The Stolen Grimoire

One year later.

In a large, silent room where the sound of a ticking clock on the wall was everything that could be heard.

The curtains were drawn shut, blocking out any trace of daylight.

The air in the room felt heavy almost suffocating. The figure lying on the bed was unmoving, with blank eyes staring up at the ceiling. The only sign of life was the slow rise and fall of his chest.

The lying figure was none other than Zayn, and he had just lost what was most important to him. The Grimoire of the Ancient.

It had been stolen, ripped out of his Soul seemingly without difficulties.

His Soul, damaged and crippled, couldn't stand the sudden loss of the Grimoire of the Ancient. It forcefully shut down Zayn's body until he would heal up.

Zayn had poured his everything into the Grimoire of the Ancient, but now it was gone. All of his hard work was devastating…well, maybe not everything.