It was five dollars. He bought it.

At first, it was beautiful. Crisp scans of vellum pages, the angular Ge'ez script like a dance of ancient spiders. He could translate enough to see it was authentic – the story of the Watchers, the giant Nephilim, the fall of Azazel. Then he turned to page 112.

He laughed nervously. His watch was gold-plated. His desk lamp was cast iron. He was literally holding a copper wire from his phone charger. And his mechanical pencil was full of graphite… which contains lead.

Aris slammed his laptop shut. The room was silent. The radiator hissed. A car passed outside.

It began to print anyway. Not on paper. It was printing onto the air itself. Black ink hung suspended in a perfect rectangle, forming letters that glowed with a faint, internal light.