Disbelief Papyrus Novels & Stories

Four knights flanked her, ready for anything. The Princess opened the proceedings, calling witnesses who had heard Abigail’s confessions in the mines. Some in the jury dismissed it as folklore, unwilling to believe in conspiracies and lost civilizations. Then, the Princess presented the evidence. Letters written on expensive Eastern paper, sent to Abigail by Margaret, detailing plague reports and the work on a cure. Instructions for her servants to destroy the tea supply that had soothed the sick. Murmurs of anger rippled through the crowd. Abigail scoffed. "How do you know these letters weren’t tampered with? They’ve been in your office for days. How do we know they’re not forgeries?"

The hardened clay became soft and insubstantial, changing shape and reforming itself into a papyrus scroll filled with hieroglyphics. Isimud was showing the scroll to a band of travelling merchants who smiled avariciously and rubbed their hands together. They were not smiling by the time the Anunnaki appeared. Jimmy’s sight was filled with the scroll when they were done and he saw it change shape once again into a single edition book that looked like it had come fresh off a Gutenberg press. This one was being placed into the eager hands of some Bavarian fur trappers, who did not manage to keep their own skins after they read it.

"Oh my God..." Tears gathered in my eyes. "It… It can't be..." Kharef took one careful step toward me. Concern replaced the quiet curiosity on his face. He spoke gently with words that I still couldn't understand. I barely heard him. "You..." I pointed at him with a trembling finger. "Kharef..." Again, he nodded. "Kharef." His calm answer shattered the last piece of my disbelief. My knees nearly gave out. "The Pharaoh..." I whispered. "The forgotten Pharaoh..."

A quill still damp. Ceres approached the desk, fingers brushing over the parchment... and frowned. It wasn't her mother's handwriting. It was Temple script. The old, sacred kind, taught only in High Priestess circles. A second parchment sat beneath the first—faintly singed at the edges, sealed with crimson wax. She cracked it open. "We warned you. Speak again, and the exile becomes execution. You swore a pact sealed in ancestral blood. Do not force us to remind the Council what you offered to seal it."

"Read it. See for yourself." Isaiah took the folder with trembling hands. He opened it—Isaiah's eyes widened. His hands began to shake harder. "No," he whispered. "This can't be true—she didn't—" "Keep reading." Isaiah flipped through page after page. Each one was worse than the last. Each one revealing layers of deception, of betrayal, of acts that directly contradicted everything Lauren Zerok had claimed to stand Isaiah looked up, his face pale. "If this is true—if any of this is true—"

"The material of this parchment isn't quite the same as the normal ones; you can easily feel that there's a layer of something sandwiched in the center. The black pattern on it is indeed a type of blindfold used for the correspondence among the Lycans." Confidently, I slowly opened the parchment scroll, but the smile on my face gradually faded. My hand holding the parchment scroll began to shake, and I clenched my teeth in an attempt not to let out a snarl of anger. "What does it say, Alpha?" Bard inquired. Bard noticed that something was amiss with me and approached with concern. "Indeed, something's not right," I whispered.

“I…” Jacob wanted to continue cursing Alex’s father for being a traitor, but the words wouldn’t come out. The sense of fear in his heart grew stronger over time, and soon, he could barely even kneel anymore. There was a force in his body that compelled him to speak the truth. “The evidence… Isn’t real. It’s forged.” This statement stunned Ysabel Yoder. Craig Selby’s eyes lit up, and he hurriedly took note of it. Meanwhile, people from Dorothy-Alex Constructions, who stood in three circles around Alex and the others, all had their eyes wide open. They held their breaths in fear of missing out on a single word.

When I looked up again. She was gone. Not running. Not climbing. Gone. As if she had vanished into the night itself. I unfolded the parchment with trembling fingers. There was only one sentence written across it. Stop trusting the people standing beside you. One of them has lied to you from the beginning.

Mart started flipping through the book as he searched for the rest of that sentence until he found it, but on different pages as well. He began searching for the third stanza, which was sera's dream until he found its beginning and read it out loud to both sera and Helena , "Do you believe in the curse of the pharaohs? Do you believe in the supernatural? Do you think there is a world other than the human world in which we live? Do you believe in witches and werewolves?" He completed a search for the rest of the third stanza, and indeed he found it in other separate sentences in this book.

There was a clear space between two surviving paragraphs, but the torn edges showed that several pages had once been attached there. “This section is missing,” he said, pointing at the empty space. “It was removed a very long time ago.” I felt my anger rising. “So someone removed part of the original prophecy, and then someone else added the passage about sacrifice to the newer copies?” “Yes.” I pushed myself away from the table and stood. “Then what exactly am I supposed to believe?” I asked. “What are the people supposed to believe?” The historian lowered his eyes. “That is what makes this dangerous.”