POV: Serena
The High Spire Archives were never quiet.
They whispered.
Stone remembered. Ink breathed. Knowledge lingered long after its creators turned to dust, and tonight the air carried a restless edge that prickled along my spine the moment I stepped inside. The cathedral tower had once been a place of worship, its spire reaching toward something divine. Now it housed the Witch Council’s greatest weapon and greatest fear.
Truth.
Tall arched windows rose between towering shelves, moonlight spilling through stained glass fractured by centuries of magic and war. Saints had been replaced by sigils. Altars by reading tables carved from obsidian and bone. Above us, ribbed stone ceilings curved like the inside of a vast ribcage, holding secrets close to its heart.
The council was alread
