The midnight bell tolled twelve times from the central watchtower, its deep bronze resonance rolling over the silent peaks as Caleb Conway slipped through the shadowed colonnade of the Mission Pavilion.
The grand intake hall lay drowned in darkness, deserted by the daytime scribes and couriers who had locked the heavy cedar doors hours ago. Caleb did not test the bronze deadbolts on the main entrance, knowing full well that opening the primary portal after hours would trip the master wards and alert the night patrol stationed at the nearby garrison. Instead, he scaled the eastern stone pillars with soundless footwork, slipping through a high clerestory window that had been left unlatched to ventilate the stale ink fumes of the lower records room.
Caleb landed softly on the wooden floorbo
