The next morning, Riana’s heels clicked sharply through the marble corridor of the Ministry of Potion Affairs. The building always smelled faintly of herbs and sterilised magic, like a mix of sage and hospital disinfectant. It was too early for chaos but chaos was exactly what awaited her.
Inside the meeting room, three investigators sat stiffly with stacks of documents, rune-press tablets, and steaming mugs of bitter witch-brew coffee. The air was thick with tension. The leather-bound client book taken from the Dark Market stall lay at the center of the table like a ticking bomb.
“Good morning, everyone,” Riana greeted, her tone calm yet authoritative.
The officers stood immediately. One of them, a young witch named Lyra, looked like she’d barely slept.
“We’ve begun decipher
