After Adam dropped the box inside Louis' office, Desmond led him to the side door he had seen earlier. A few magi glanced at him as he pushed it open, but were already studying artifacts or sorting through heaps of iridescent ores and timber. A sour scent rose from one heap, but before he could place it, it turned peppery.
Once he stepped into the stone corridor, the glow of ores, the woody scents, and the scratch of quills faded like mirages.
Whenever he took a step, a dim light pulsed through narrow grooves engraved on the walls. They flickered out of existence the moment he advanced, giving him the sensation that the college could track his movement, that magical traps would trigger if momentary greed bested caution. At least, that's what he would have done to protect treasures from mischievous students and teachers whose research devoured materials like an abyss.
