Perusing the last few pages, she was about done reading the memorandum. A little less than two weeks had passed since her arrival in Platus. Her travels across the many districts had been minacious but fruitful; she had visited most of the locations inscribed in the notes, but also encountered its foretold threats, upon her very first day within the darkened metropolis.
"I wish Mentor Custos had been more specific with his task..." She sighed, as she slammed the book closed. "I went to most of the locations described in here, but found myself no closer to understanding my mandate..." Her thoughts trailed off into turmoil, but were quickly refocused by a sudden trill. Her eyes upon the coming sound, she noticed the magpie hopping atop the memorandum.
"Someone's bustling with energy." She smiled. Although she wasn't able to restore the bird's flight ability, she had nonetheless nurtured it back to full health, gaining herself a new feathered friend. She watched as it pecked at the fore edge of the book. "Trying to tell me something aren't you?" She glimpsed in direction of the resting Raven. "Did Sephora teach you this trick?" She leaned to the side, her face brushing against the table, her eyes running across the textblock. Would you look at that..! She held the book to its side, tenting the pages to reveal the painting of a familiar structure. "The Anathema Horologe..." Could this be the one? Her gaze shifted; through the window she saw the afar steeple, its allure once again entrancing her mind. I must go there. She gathered a few items, placing the magpie back in the safety of her cage, before leaving for Amberwood Square.
She strode across the city, meandering between shadows, shielding herself from the salacious activities that plagued the many streets. Her winged companion scouted the skies, keeping watch for any potential harm that could come her way. The pair eventually reached their destination; imposing and somewhat haunting, stood the towering building. Its entrance completely sealed off, her options were limited to the many scaffolding siding the main tower.
She scouted her surroundings, her winged companion keeping watch over the grounds below. Distant coughs could be heard, few barks echoing, but the overall district seemed in complete slumber. A few streetlights pierced through the dark of the night, but most of the colossal structure remained plunged in the shadows. A familiar croak caught her attention; she noticed Sephora perched upon the timepiece. The moonlight gleamed down upon its glass façade, blueish hues guiding her eyes to a small but visible opening.
This is a long way up... Her expression frowned. She sidled to an accessible ledge, slowly making her way up the unfinished structure. No stranger to scaling, reaching high up the treacherous architecture still proved quite challenging. Not without efforts and a few minor cuts, she eventually made it up to the cracked window. She proceeded inside; greeted by a dusty and bleak atmosphere, the interior showing the passage of time, its roots deep within the Dominion's History. From her position stood the turret clock, numerous gears forming the heart of the tower. Much to her surprise, she noted how well maintained the mechanism appeared, free from any obstacles that could halter its endless rotation. Her eyes wandered across the peculiar interior: a small workshop filled the upper section, a multitude of phials, sachets and Magicae shards filled the shelves, shuffled notes and stacks of books scattered all around. A short set of stairs separated the lower level, which contained an array of cases, each displaying immensely rare Hexad artifacts. Her eyes wandered between the many cabinets, when a particular one caught her attention.
"A Water Crystal in its natural form..!" Inside was a large geode, its surface resembling coral, its slate shade veined with a sapphire hue. "Unblemished Magicae... the purest I have ever seen..." She sensed its power, scorched and long forgotten. She opened the case with care, and reached for the stone; her eyes absorbed by its imperfect beauty, her spellforce drawn to its dormant state.
"Aquaes Petra Athesomnus... the sleeping seas of Old." A hand grabbed hers from behind; she felt a presence, dangerously close.
