Stella hurried forward, her eyes fixed on the floating scroll as she desperately tried to read the words appearing across its surface.
However, the letters moved far too quickly for her to make any sense of them.
She could barely process a single line before it vanished and was replaced by another, the words shifting and rearranging themselves almost as though they were deliberately trying to prevent her from understanding them.
She tried several more times, forcing herself to concentrate despite the growing frustration building inside her.
Beads of sweat gathered across her forehead and slowly trickled down her temples.
It felt as though she was engaged in an actual battle with the portrait, except that her opponent was not a person she could see or fight.
It was the ancient magic itself, resisting every attempt she made to understand it.
"I don't believe I can't manage you," she muttered through gritted teeth.
