There were no roads built on the western reaches of the Old Wood. Earthen paths left unused for years, save for the occasional marauder seeking refuge in the forest. Snaking roots embraced and twined with each other; an overflow of rootlets crawled into the roadsides. Automobiles that ventured into these parts gave their occupants a bumpy awakening, with some bouncing to the near edge of their seats. This made up much of the travel until the vehicles were forced to stop before a rapid stream. Despite the city administrators' promise of a more visible constable presence at the forest borders, the majority of those guarding the parked armored cars were the teal and blue uniforms of the Special Investigations Bureau. A temporary bridge was raised at the calmest point of the stream; occasional water sprays from the young current above dampened it.

  Farin disembarked from her assigned vehicle; she closed her mouth and let out a soft, yet gritty cough. The gas from that night's battle was yet to be expelled from her system. She was far from full strength, but there was more than enough in her to shoot or make a few cuts with her sword. She returned the handkerchief to her coat pocket, exposing her nose to the full scent of leaf litter and cold air coming from the K?n. The operative in front of her extended a salute while standing still, saying:

  "We have secured the place, Director."

  "Good. Lead the way, Lieutenant."

  The road was the easiest part of the journey; larger, more complex roots made brisk walking inside the Old Wood impossible. The director thought about why she had to pass through the site this way, but then there were no other approaches where their evidence collection units could park their vehicles with little trouble. Farin had to climb through mossy layers and crunch through dying twigs to approach an area that greatly differed from the forbidding ring of vegetation.

  Men stood watch; rifles and machine pistols were occasionally pointed at the vast green expanse beyond. Others crouched near stiff masses that lay on the ground; a mild stench was forming around them, slowly, but surely, overtaking the smell of trees filtered by the wind.

  Farin covered her nose and took two steps back when she went near one of the bodies. It was a strange creature: something that resembled a child's drawing of nightmares that came to life. The flies had yet to get to these remains, which allowed her to look at the bullet hole that ended its life.

  "How many of these are still here, I wonder?" Farin spoke her thoughts, though none among the other team members dared respond to her.

  She had to pull away from the stench, lest it cling to her clothes. She didn't want to have to return to the office wearing a dead giveaway of what she worked on. A wide hole almost escaped her attention. It was half a man deep, shaped in a disturbing perfectness that the topsoil merged with bedrock, creating a smooth depression the way a baker's finger tests dough. The same could be said of the shallow but wide impression that lay ahead of the clearing; the ground was flattened, the cauterized tree roots and fallen treetops told what used to be in that space.

  "Now where's Captain Melvich when you need him the most?" Farin whispered while surveying the area. "This is surely where his expertise would have shone bright."

  The masked faces and gloved hands of the coroners arrived at the scene. The bodies were wrapped in blankets and were mounted onto stretchers. They had to be bound by a few straps each to not fall off as they were extracted from the site. Farin turned around and asked one of the men on duty:

  "Did you notice anything? Tracks? Fragments?"

  "We found these, Director."

  The operative hailed one of the men in charge of a folding wooden table. Farin did not wait, but went to the place instead. Three bullet casings; two of them filled with muck, another lost its cylindrical form. A bullet was also found in the scene: it had a flat point, though larger by a few millimeters than the ones used by Imperial pistols. Nothing was out of the ordinary in terms of their make, though these were made of steel, compared to the brass ones issued throughout the Empire. She returned the spent pieces on top of the table and looked back at the wide area where the mangled vegetation stood.

  There was nothing strange about the bullets. Large as they were, they were propelled by a kind of smokeless powder, but the exact composition was something Farin had to run with the experts later. Besides, no pistol, no matter how powerful it was, possessed the power to rival artillery in terms of damage. All that made sense to her was that whoever destroyed these vile-looking organisms was not alone.

  She went near one of the craters yet to be observed by the team on the field, crouching down to examine the hole in the ground. It was rimless, glass-like to the touch. Farin did not need to go to the site with the most fallen trees: the glossy layer that destroyed them was the same as what made the hole. Was this a new bomb the Empire was yet to create? She stood up and looked at how the rest of the team was doing.

  ????

  The afternoon of the next day was spent sorting through what had been learned from the Antikwald site. It meant records – and another trip to the Imperial Archives to safeguard the findings. At least, the anxiety of the mail courier failing to do its job and compromising the information was skipped: it was reduced to dealing with the director's own nervousness.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Magic this, magic that. She remembered Rinvar, who was still recovering from the injuries he had sustained in his attempt to intercept those intruders. It was impossible for him not to present a wild theory about what happened back in the woods. The door to the Chamber of Artifacts was all boarded up; it had more to do with replacing the solid steel door that was destroyed in the attack.

  Farin made a right turn and went to the end of the hall, where a sign was posted on the door:

  RESTRICTED

  Ironic, she thought. While this section had the most imposing lettering in the Archives, it was also one of the few areas where select civilians were given access – as long as the permits were secured. The attending receptionist received Farin's sword and pistol as she signed the officers' ledger.

  "Nice day, isn't it, Director?"

  "It's also a nice day for reading." Farin returned the pen to the desk. "Any recommendations?"

  "Nothing new. The Luminbergers sent here-"

  "Just what I need. I'll see you later."

  Farin made a quick nod and entered the section. Eight desks with a chair each: that was the only space available, not counting the card catalog desk and the information personnel who looked jollier than usual. The director approached the small cabinet and flipped cards one after another.

  "Magic, Ancient... Magical energy... Magical instances..." Farin pulled out a card. Though the corners were yellowed, the text was crisp and looked unblemished. "Here it is. Magical theory."

  The shelves almost hit the ceiling, creating an illusion of endless pillars of books when seen from a distance, when combined with the blacked-out windows on the opposite walls. The sun outside forced itself in, appearing as faint fields that wrapped around the blinds. Farin found the shelf that the old card pointed her to.

  It was a sea of patterns; books that were bound in leather and steel merged with those with cloth covers. She never liked the air inside these 'paper stores'. Cool enough not to make her sweat, yet it lacked a flow that felt fresh; the smell of new and old paper merged into something familiar yet dreaded. Farin stood still, looking at the many titles, but also wondering why she had not picked a title from the card catalog before going to this place. She did well with files, but was stunned at the imposing sight of shelved books.

  She was not the only person who took to reading that day.

  The sound of flipped pages and the closing of a heavy book cover took her attention from the towering stacks. A figure emerged from a corner, carrying a large tome that took almost half its lower arm, and three smaller books. Farin thought it was a cloaked ghost at first, until the outline revealed a woman sporting a dress that covered everything except her face and hands.

  "Good day." Farin made sure she was audible enough for the stranger, yet soft enough that it did not draw the attention of the officers in charge of the Archives. "I thought I was the only one reading at this time."

  "A good day to you, too." With the obvious heft of what this person was carrying on both arms, she managed to make a quick tilt of the head.

  Now she recalled what this woman was. The radiating symbols on her sleeves and on the folds of her dress. A member of the clergy. Farin continued:

  "Surprised to see that members of the Church have access to this section."

  "It is through special permissions, though I'm not allowed on specific sections." The stranger stared at where Farin had been looking not long ago. "You are learning about magic, I dare guess?"

  "Oh... you guessed right."

  "If you allow me, I can recommend some texts."

  Farin stood still, intrigued and dumbfounded at the suggestion - or at the one giving it - that she nodded twice. The clergywoman set her books down, careful not to disturb the bindings. She started looking at items below eye level, then worked her up upwards. It did not take her long before a book was pulled out of the shelf.

  "Here's 'Introduction to Magical Energy and Projections'..."

  She was not yet done. Four other books were taken out, each action faster than the previous. The cleric rambled on:

  "I can't believe this one has been archived. This is 'Energy Control and Manipulation for Students'. It's a must-read in the Academy. Here are 'Guide to Magical Elements' and 'Understanding Projections and the Use of Catalysts'. The last one should be... 'A Treatise on the Relationship Between Energy Control and the Laws of Nature'. It's short, but it covers many of the basic principles."

  Farin started with a frown, followed by the look of an overwhelmed store assistant. It was less about the number of books or the thickness of each, but rather she found herself taking magical advice from a cleric. The strong blue habit was from an order far from commonly seen in the Empire. She couldn't help but ask:

  "I didn't know the clergy had an order that openly dabbles in magic."

  "I belong to an order where we have limited practice." She said, "It helps with our use of healing rites."

  "Then I can call on you later in case I miss out on terms?"

  "I won't mind. I'll be seated somewhere nearby."

  "Oh, I forgot." The director offered her hand before saying. "Farin."

  "-phemia." The cleric shook her hand in turn. Farin was distracted by the sight of the books she had to read.

  "I think I didn't quite get your name." Out of pride and to not sound rude or absent-minded, the director said, "But do you also go by 'Mia'?"

  "My fellow sisters call me that sometimes, yes."

  "Thank you for these... suggestions." Farin stared at the thickness of the material she was about to study. "I'm looking forward to making sense of all this."

  "I hope they will be most helpful. Have a pleasant day, Officer."

  The cleric nodded, smiling before she bent down to pick up her books. The director watched her pass by, leave the shelves, and go into a seat near a window. An odd coincidence, Farin thought. She caught the title of one of the books that the clergywoman was holding. Why would someone who practices healing rites be interested in 'Bestiary of the Unholy and Damned Creatures of the Rift'?