Page 115 of Vasmora

“Remind me of the plan again,” Allura whispered beside him.

Dolion drew his hood up, concealing as much of his face as he could. “You’re to present an Archival Authorization Letter signed by a Magestroli chairman.”

She turned toward him in his periphery. “Authorization letter? Might this be one you forged?”

“It might.”

“That is grounds for execution for you, and expulsion for me.”

“Might I remind you, dear, that expulsion will not matter when the Umbravale falls and the world goes to shit.”

She sighed. “You’re certain of this. Your vision. The infected.”

He wished he could tell her no. That there might be a sliver of hope for Aethyria. “I’ve had far too many to be mere coincidence.”

“Okay, then.” She pushed to her feet and held out her palm, in which Dolion deposited the sealed scroll. “Dare I ask if the signature looks authentic?”

Dolion snorted and brushed the dirt away from his cloak as he stood. “I’ve had quite a bit of practice.”

Allura rolled her eyes. “No wonder they kicked you out. And where do you plan to be?”

“At your side, of course.” Dolion tugged a small vial from the pocket of his robe. Thankfully, the purple fluid inside hadn’t leaked. He poured it over his head, as Rykaia had instructed, but the liquid quickly evaporated upon hitting the air, falling around him as a purple smoke.

Allura peered into the hood of his cloak, and when he peeled it back, she frowned. “Godsbreath, who are you?”

“Someone Rykaia knows.” He turned his hands over, noticing his skin was paler and wrinkled. Patting his face left him frowning, like Allura, when his fingers passed over far more wrinkles than he recalled last time he’d looked in a mirror. His brows felt bushier, too, hair short and cropped. “Gods be damned, I must look terrible.”

Allura chuckled, quickly slapping a hand over her mouth. “You look very wise.”

Dolion groaned and shook his head, leading the way toward the tower. “Wise and terrible.”

Climbing the staircase to the tower sent a feeling of nostalgia pouring through him. He’d always loved academia, missed the endless hours studying old tomes and debating with his fellow mages. Banishment had been devastating, but he refused to denounce the visions he’d seen. The destruction that had ostracized him from his fellow mages.

Hand carvings of prominent Magestrolians made up the ornate woodwork of the entrance, and Dolion pushed through to the vaulted ceilings of the main lobby. Beautifully sculpted bust statues stood proudly atop stone pillars that lined the main entryway. Cosmic maps had been intricately painted in silver across the black marble floor, with the sigils of each major bloodline represented. The lunadei painted across the domed ceiling glowed from the shadows like constellations in the night.

Perhaps the most stunning building outside of the king’s throne room.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever been inside. It’s beautiful.” Head tipped back, Allura seemed to marvel at the details.

“It is a sight to behold.” Dolion led her along the corridor to a stairwell, which took them four levels down to the coldest and quietest part of the tower.

As they exited the stairwell, the room beyond it expanded outward for a circular room, where a desk stood before the only entrance Dolion was aware of into the Archives. The gateway to an endless maze with sealed tunnels that offered no other means of escape.

Gaze trailing over the room, Dolion noticed two guards opposite the desk, while one clerk stood behind it, with a mimicrow perched in the corner–likely there to report any unusual activity to the administrators.

As they approached, Dolion rubbed his clammy hands together, suddenly questioning the plan.

The clerk, a tall and skinny young man with dark skin and cropped silvery hair, regarded the two of them with a respectful nod. Undoubtedly Elyvniran, given his pointed ears. His green eyes lit up, smile bright, as he seemed to take in Dolion’s travel companion. “Allura! How wonderful to see you!”

“Thaddeus? I thought you’d long since graduated and moved back to Calyxar!”

“Ah, no. I couldn’t leave my beloved academia. I’m taking on an apprenticeship for the Magestroli. Master of Healing Arts.” Lips pressed to a proud smile, he raised his hand, wriggling the apprentice signet ring on his finger. “You’re in the Praeceptress program, right?”

As frustrating as the small talk may have been, given the urgency of the situation, Dolion remained quiet. The possibility of passage was far more likely with an acquaintance.

“Yes, I’m currently in an apprenticeship with …” She waved toward Dolion. “Professor … Camara.”

The young man’s brows raised as he nodded toward Dolion in a show of respect. “Pleased to meet you, Professor.”