A week slipped by in a blur of monotonous routine. Each day melded into the next as I kept my head down and focused on my work at the library. The once vibrant corridors of Babel felt cold and distant now. My interactions were minimal, limited to the essentials, and I ventured outside only when absolutely necessary. The weight of the recent events hung over me like a dark cloud, making me wary of every shadow and every stranger I encountered.
The church of Evernight was a constant, oppressive presence in the back of my mind. I stayed under their radar as best I could, mindful of the sinister warning from the ritual. I had not heard a word from Rosaline, which troubled me more with each passing day. My curiosity was a gnawing itch, but I had to temper it with the realization that she might be in even more danger than I was. The idea that she could be a target, potentially grounded or even restrained, only added to my growing anxiety.
