At a quarter past four in the morning, the Ancient Records Library lay beneath the eastern wing of Regina Royal Estate, where Queen's Avenue had fallen quiet beneath a veil of silver mist, and the old stone walls held the chill of centuries despite the warmth of the lamps burning along the corridor. Elara Romano followed Lucien Noctis through an arched doorway guarded by two iron statues, her fingers resting against the pendant at her throat as the faint memory of the voice from the northern gate continued to trouble her thoughts. She had scarcely slept since the crown shattered, and the events surrounding Malachor had left her wondering whether every answer she discovered merely concealed another truth that someone had decided she was not ready to know. When Lucien glanced back at her, she noticed that his usual effortless composure had given way to a guarded expression, the sort he wore whenever a conversation approached a subject he would rather leave buried.
