Jasper pushed open the archive door and stepped into the smell of old paper and dust. He'd come looking for answers about his lightning — why it was magenta, why it hit different, why no one would talk about it. Someone had to have written something down. He found it three hours in, tucked between water damage reports and shipping manifests. The parchment was yellow and brittle, the ink faded to brown. At the top, someone had written "Magenta Aura" in careful script. Below that, the handwriting changed — rushed, uneven, like the writer couldn't get the words out fast enough. "Reincarnation of The Elder God Of Time And Space." Jasper read it twice. Then he noticed the edges of the page, where the ink had smudged. Not from age. From sweat. Whoever wrote this had been shaking. He folded the parchment carefully and slid it into his jacket. For the first time in six months, he had a direction. Not an answer — but a trail someone else had been too scared to follow.