Max's POV
The Academy's stone corridors stretched empty before me, bathed in the dying light of sunset. Long shadows crept across the marble floors like grasping fingers, and I moved with them, using their cover as I navigated the outer wall of the east wing.
The Hall of Records loomed ahead, a forgotten tower tucked into the Academy's furthest corner. Most students avoided it except during enrollment periods. No security. No patrols watching the perimeter.
Just an old rusted latch on a side window, half-concealed behind thick ivy. The same window I'd used before during less official visits.
I tested the metal clasp. Still loose from my previous intrusion.
It yielded with barely a whisper.
I slipped through the opening and dropped silently to the floor, crouching low while my eyes adjusted to the darkness. The familiar scent of aged parchment and dust filled my nostrils, mixed with the sharp tang of old ink.
