The stagnant days crawled by as I immersed myself in studying the curse of secrecy. Each night, I teleported to Lyall's quarters, carrying with me the books I had retrieved from the Pope's secret lab. These ancient Grimoires, heavy with the weight of forbidden knowledge, lined his desk, their cracked spines whispering secrets of magic older than memory itself.
Lyall, as always, was dutiful, though exhaustion clung to him like a second skin. He would often fall asleep in his chair, his head resting on folded arms, while I poured over the texts in silence. His loyalty, unwavering and absolute, brought a small smile to my lips whenever I glanced at him.
