—Click.
The door of Private Room Four shut behind him.
Lucavion took three steps before deciding that whatever had happened inside that room belonged to a category of problems best approached with maturity, patience, and a healthy amount of distance.
His right hand slipped into his pocket.
'Later.'
There.
Problem solved.
He continued down the corridor.
The Western Library was quieter at this hour, though quiet meant something rather different inside a building that apparently considered ordinary architecture beneath its dignity. Warm lights floated beneath the vaulted ceiling without chains or fixtures. Books moved between distant shelves in slow arcs of pale mana, sometimes accompanied by translucent creatures that Lucavion assumed were spirits because calling them librarians with wings felt disrespectful to both professions.
A silver-blue thing fluttered past his shoulder.
—Fwish.
Lucavion's eyes followed it.
