Don't let the ancient, dark, long-forgotten words feast on the void of your loneliness...
***
Eli Phillips doesn’t fit in. Moving from one town to the next for most of his childhood has turned him into a lonely kid, too socially awkward to make friends.
When two bullies paint a target on his back, Eli finds himself cornered with unwanted attention.
Until he stumbles upon the book.
It’s massive and old, half buried in the forest floor, moldy, damp. Scriptum Obscurus arches across the cover in thick, gnarled letters.
As soon as he turns the first page, his life is changed forever. He can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t think of anything but the book. The blank pages begin to fill, night after night, with his own handwriting. Words he has no memory of writing. Words in another language that he has no name for.
It’s a ritual.
And when it’s performed, blood will run as black as the ink that stains his fingers.