Deacon Vane did not need to be told twice.
He gathered his velvet cloths, tucked his wooden abacus securely under his arm, and scurried toward the towering bronze doors like a badger scenting ripe melons.
The gates of the Hall of Edicts stood fifty yards high.
Cast from solid astral bronze and inlaid with celestial gold runes, they had remained locked against the common cultivators of six realms for five thousand years. Now, with both Sovereign Vael and Sovereign Nyx dead, the defensive wards had collapsed into inert metal.
Sera Thorne stepped forward, using the cracked butt of Storm-Pike to shove the left gate open.
The heavy bronze moved with a long, metallic groan that echoed through the quiet courtyards.
Kaelen walked behind her with his hands tucked into his wide linen sleeves.
Beside him, Mina Vance kept close to his elbow, her eyes darting across the grand obsidian pillars lining the entrance colonnade. Claire Vance followed with her brass-bound book open in her hands, while Barnaby Holt held his iron ladle high, sniffing the stale air for alchemical traps.
