Phantom Papyrus Novels & Stories

I NEED to know who he is, and something tells me I won’t discover much if I approach him as Phantom Reaper. I don’t really even know who I actually am, to be honest. I never indulged in friendships or relationships with others. It’s just always been survival. The only person I had any kind of positive relationship was my mother. I don’t know my father but because of my hair color, I’m fairly certain my father was Christian Bartoa. I know he frequented the slave cells whenever he was bored, and the urge arises so it doesn’t surprise me, but I don’t intend to ever claim him nor carry his surname. The thought of actually SPEAKING to Damien makes me feel a weird sense of anxiety. I’m unsure if i

Ivana stopped in mid-sentence when she spotted Paige already kneeling on the ground, up close to the deceased. Already absorbed by the thing she saw, Paige ignored Ivana and put her gloves on. She wasn't sure what it was but it looks like figures of some sort. She flipped the leg on its other side and there it was, carved in an italicized form, a series of numbers mixed in letters flaunted on her sight. P1618-P The manner of writing wasn't decent but it was fairly understandable. Paige felt a sudden rise of excitement through her veins. She took out her cellphone and captured it. She zoomed it in and the gibberish became more readable to her.

This particular parchment is crafted from rare Pole Red Kelp, known for its vibrant hues and exceptional quality. Bryan unrolls the parchment, and as he does, a mesmerizing shimmer catches his eye. The parchment seems to possess a subtle iridescence, attributed to the presence of aragonite and conchiolin infused within the fibers. It is unlike any parchment he has seen before, exuding an otherworldly beauty.

To be able to get a good understanding of what I am about to read, I scooted backwards to the end of the bed and slipped a pillow behind my back to relax my neck. The papyrus was very old, and the ink on it had begun to fade; the handwriting was bold even though the words were not exactly aligned. I ignored these errors with one dismissive blink and started reading. Dear reader. You did not find this note or the entire package which this note would come with by chance. I would like you to hold on to this before you continue reading. The moon goddess is wise, but we now have humans, mere mortals who have been claiming to know more than the supreme being.

Under the light of my torch, I could see the watermark of a long-dead papermaker: a small, intricate crown. ​This is it, I breathed, running a gloved finger along the edge of the top sheet. The calcium carbonate buffer is perfect. It hasn't been acidified by the industrial revolution. It’s... pure. ​But as I lifted the sheet, my heart did a slow, sickening slide into my stomach. The paper wasn't blank. ​"Damian," I whispered, my voice cracking. "Look." ​I tilted the page toward the UV light on Damian’s belt. A pale, shimmering luminescence appeared on the surface. It wasn't ink; it was a chemical stain, a "ghost" image that had been pressed into the fibers long ago.

Noticing my curiosity, Adam took out a paper and I gasped at how beautiful it was. With a proud smile, he placed a wooden board in front of me and set the paper over it for me to analyze since I never saw it before. I listened carefully as he started explaining, "This is The Royal Parchment of the Kingdom of the North. Only the hands of the Monarch or the Royal Scribe can write over it." My eyes scanned the paper. It was made of some premium-quality material. It was creamy and soft to the touch. The color was beige and a very faint cown of the North was watermarked. The borders were designed of vines in gold ink which seemed to be embedded inside the paper.

My first thought after reading the damn content was: holy fuck. It was written in Phanteon language; used indelible ink from Sattus, and it was embued with fairy-like dust from the first full moon of the kingdom. This meant all the words on the parchment were absolute and irreversible. Signed by my father during the creation of Phanteon, it told about all werewolves and lycans bound by an unseen force of the Universe. Through the moon, this force manifests in the form of a crescent mark on the wrists of two destined people.

This seemingly weak palm carried endless power, which was beyond imagination. The palm print continued to move forward! The void in front of him began to collapse. Ripples and cracks appeared one after another! The momentum was rolling! Thunder-shocking Realm! The whole void seemed to collapse! The palm print looked slow, but in fact, it locked Zephyr Khan's retreat route! He could vaguely see it! Above the Void, a huge phantom, about 1,000 meters long, stood proudly in the air and looked straight ahead. The palm print was released from the phantom.

They began investigating it curiously. A wooden table was placed in the middle of the basement. It was occupied by the wreck of parchments, quills and an old, leather diary. Leo moved towards the table trying to find something that can help them acknowledge the situation. He began examining the hand made parchments. “Did you find anything?” Adi asked curiously. “Nothing much. Some very old handmade papers and a diary.” He pushed the diary towards Adi as it was empty when he checked. He continued taking a look at the parchments. He felt intrigued by its thick structure as he had never seen something like this.

Fresh wounds from her recent self-harm peeked out from beneath the collar of her gown. She held up a thick stack of yellowed papers. "These are Ethan Lawson's design sketches from 2019 to 2021. At 2:00 am on November 3, 2019, Ethan messaged me from the library, saying the phoenix's eyes needed the shimmer of tears from rebirth." Penelope pressed play on a voice recorder. My voice, accompanied by the hum of a coffee machine, filled the air. "Penelope, the maze in the third chapter of the game is modeled after the Great Emperor's Mausoleum—"