Maximus Aregard moved through the mirrored corridor of the Shadow Library, hands clasped behind his back, each step measured and soft.
The floor beneath him, black glass turned with constellations of forgotten gods, swallowed the sound of his boots. Only the faint rustle of his dark robes followed him.
In his wake trailed silence—perfect, absolute, and watchful.
He stopped before a sealed door of black jade. It bore no lock or handle, only a rune that shimmered like spilled ink. He touched it with a single gloved finger.
The door melted away.
Inside, the walls of the chamber curved like the inside of a skull. Floating lights drifted in the air, soft and green, illuminating scrolls, spell-script, and hundreds of files stacked in silver trays.
A single figure waited for him near the center—a man in a spider-silk vest, spectacles perched at the tip of his nose.
Cassian.
"Is it confirmed?" Maximus asked, not greeting him.
