Sera Thorne stepped into the freezing shadows of the sub-basement vault, her bronze lantern illuminating rows of cold iron shelves.
Beside her, Mina Vance moved like a ghost across the frost-crusted flagstones.
The air in the subterranean chamber was stagnant and bitter.
It smelled of dry woodblock parchment, lead seals, and the unmistakable metallic taint of preserved corpse-salt.
Sera raised the lantern higher, casting yellow light into the gloom.
Along the left wall stood five tall wooden cabinets, each fitted with hundreds of narrow cubbies.
Inside each cubby rested a small white jade identity tag.
Sera walked to the nearest cabinet and pulled out a tag with her gloved fingers.
