One Does Not Simply Walk Into the Restricted Section

I turned the name over in my head, letting it settle like a bad aftertaste. If I had a coin for every ancient, supposedly dead organization that turned out to still be kicking, I'd have… well, two coins. Which wasn't a lot, but it was weird that it happened twice.

Mara had been uncharacteristically quiet since we left the abandoned wing, her brows furrowed so hard I half-expected them to form a second face. She still clutched the old robe like it was a bomb, her fingers tracing the faded sigil every few minutes like she was trying to convince herself it was real.

We ducked into an empty study hall, just far enough from the main corridors that we wouldn't be overheard. Ronan must have seen us–I don't know how he does it, but it's like he could sniff us out– because he followed, silent as ever, which was vaguely unnerving. He was there, just existing, and it wasn't till I tried to interact with Mara that we even realized he had snuck in with us.