As he fingered the pages, the flickering candlelight revealed Tindwyl’s firm, yet beautiful, script. It mixed easily with paragraphs written in Sazed’s own, more reserved hand. At times, a page would alternate between their different hands a dozen different times. He didn’t realize that he was crying until he blinked, sending loose a tear, which hit the page. He looked down, stunned as the bit of water caused a swirl in the ink.
