Surya opened the ancient book, its pages brittle and smelling of time. He didn't look at Sanyukta or Tara; his focus was absolute; his mind already submerged in the grammar and syntax.

"The language is complex," he murmured, fingers tracing the dense script. "It's poetic, almost ritualistic, a style common for texts, drawing and diagram meant to be memorised." Clearing his throat, he read aloud, his low, resonant voice lending unexpected gravity to the "fantasy" he translated.