Two months had passed since Logan last spent this long in the library.
The silence inside had been deep, almost oppressive but it was worth it.
Rows of tall shelves pressed in from all sides, their wood darkened from years of use and polished smooth by countless hands.
He had been there for hours, skimming indexes, cross-referencing spell notations, checking the Exchange catalog one final time before committing.
And now, finally, he stepped outside.
A few students passed by, the soft hum of conversation following them down the stone corridor.
Their footsteps echoed in the high-ceilinged space, bouncing off the arched beams overhead.
Walking with a steady pace, Logan ignored them.
The weight of two tightly bound scroll cases was under his arm.
The cases were marked in faint, embossed silver sigils that confirmed their authenticity.
