“Please, Sylvester, they’re coming after me! I need somewhere to hide!”

Shimshon sat on his bed, tenderly holding the scrolls. He had heard enough about his great-grandfather, the great mekubal he was named after, to know that he was holding the famed Seven Scrolls. They were written by his grandfather, Rav Shimshon, together with his friend at the time, Rav Shabsi. The scrolls supposedly gave clear instructions how to create… a golem!

Why were his grandfather’s scrolls inside Claude’s house? Why did Sylvester want these scrolls, and why didn’t he tell Shimshon about them?

Shimshon fell asleep, a terrible unease settling over him.

The next day he went to Sylvester’s house, a tall, spooky looking tower just below the mountain.

“Well, well… Shimshon. I thought we agreed you would come at daybreak. You’re a bit late.”

“Sorry, Sylvester. I overslept. I managed to get the sack of jewels that belonged to my father. It was right where you said it would be.”

“Good, good. But what about the other bag I requested that you take? The, uh, historical documents?”

“Oh, well… I looked everywhere, but I couldn’t find anything that fit that description. Someone else must have taken them.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

Sylvester’s black eyes seemed to grow larger, boring into Shimshon.