The woman picked up the letter, and Toria hid another flinch. Her hands looked fine, except for the lack of fingernails. The movement of her limbs appeared natural, with the barest hint of jerkiness that would not have been obvious had Toria not been looking for it. The sheer amount of power needed to maintain this simulacrum to run a reception desk impressed her even more than the ambient energy outside had. That was the result of decades of magical students and residents. This was an intentional use of power for a rather benign purpose.
The simulacrum scanned the text of the letter once before refolding it and passing it back to Syri. She c****d her head to the side and stared in between Syri and Kane’s bodies at the far wall. Before Toria could ask whether she needed any other informat
