The first place the ledger points to is a locked-down archive basement, all cinderblock walls, humming fluorescents, and stale paper dust. Shelves rise in narrow aisles, and the air smells like old toner and wet concrete. Veyra and Veeran stand under a blinking security light while the brass sigil plate warms in her hand.
Veyra Thornveil
The plate is reacting to something in here.
A metal cart sits abandoned beside a filing cage. On it, a stack of transfer boxes leans open, and one folder hangs half-out, marked with the same dragon sigil as the plate.
The Hooded Courier
You’re in the right place. Please, just let me explain before anyone else gets here.
The courier steps into the aisle from the shadows, hood still up, hands visible and empty. Veeran shifts to block the narrow corridor behind Veyra, tense and ready.
Veeran
Talk fast. I do not like this room.
The folder on the cart slips farther open, revealing a list of names, dates, and a red-circled address line. At the far end of the basement, something clicks once behind a locked door.