A Bookmark Unfurled

I noticed a thick crimson ribbon sewn deep into the binding of the ancient tome, dangling inertly over the pine shelf edge. A proper warrior leaves no mechanism untested. Bracing my heavy boots against the wood, I clamped both spiked gloves around the woven cord and applied disciplined traction. The silk slipped taut between the parchment leaves with a dry, rhythmic whisper before settling squarely across the open page. I laid my palm flat against the fabric to anchor it. This boundary marker now seals my place among the runes for the night.