In Florence, Thoth sketched beside Leonardo da Vinci, the air thick with ink and ambition.

“The tablet’s not of Earth,” Thoth said, tracing its edges. “The Greys brought it—meddlers from beyond.”

Leonardo’s brow furrowed. “Aliens?”
A craft hummed overhead, its light blinding. Greys emerged, their spindly hands seizing the tablet. Thoth fought—a whirlwind of feathers and fury—wresting it back as Leonardo sketched furiously, muttering, “Madness or genius, I’ll capture it.” The tablet’s return felt hollow; its origins gnawed at Thoth’s mind.