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Evander moved to the desk first.

The surface was meticulously organised. The notebooks were arranged by subject, the quills were lined up by size, and the reference texts were stacked in neat piles. It spoke of a methodical mind.

Evander opened the topmost notebook. He frowned as he skimmed the contents.

“What is it?” Leon joined him.

“Thornfield was writing a thesis on elemental transmutation theory.” Evander flipped through several pages of precise diagrams and equations. “Quite advanced work for a student, even one under Whitley’s tutelage.”

“Walter said he was the most brilliant student he’d had in years,” Cecillia commented.

Leon began examining the reference texts, his fingers trailing along the spines of the tomes before he opened them.

“It seems he was looking into rare magical phenomena,” he observed with a frown. “Many of these texts are restricted at the Paris Institute.”

A chill settled in Evander’s stomach as Leon passed him one of the books.

“Thornfield was researching the same subject Whitley and Chevalier were investigating?” He glanced at Cecillia.

“Who’s Chevalier?” she asked, her confused gaze swinging between Leon and him.

Evander checked the door was closed before answering.

“Please keep this a secret for now,” he said steadily. “Professor Henri Chevalier is an advanced Elemental Magic specialist at the Paris Institute for the Arcane. He was Whitley’s French collaborator. He went missing four days ago.”

Cecillia gasped, the blood draining from her face as she brought a hand to her mouth.

“Could Thornfield have been aware of Whitley’s collaboration with Chevalier?” Leon pressed her.

Cecillia hesitated before shaking her head.

“I—I’m not sure.” She swallowed nervously.

“But they’ve been working very closely, so it’s possible Walter told him in confidence.

” Her eyes widened as she recalled something.

“In fact, I think that’s likely. James often assisted the professor with his correspondence. ”

Evander’s misgivings deepened. It was becoming clear that Whitley, Chevalier, and probably even Thornfield had been watched for some time by whoever had kidnapped them.

Leon wandered into Thornfield’s bedchamber while Evander continued examining the rest of the sitting room. The Frenchman emerged moments later, his expression thoughtful.

“Nothing seems disturbed in there either. The bed is made and his clothes are hung properly. If he was abducted, it wasn’t from his rooms.”

“Let us examine Whitley’s laboratory,” Evander suggested. “If Thornfield was assisting with his research, we could find some answers there.”

Shaw and Rufus joined them just as they exited the room.

Evander slowed to a halt and arched an eyebrow. “That was quick.”

Shaw grimaced. “Yes, well, pretty much everyone we interviewed claimed they saw and heard nothing.”

Rufus lowered his brows. “Bar one person. A first-year student. He said he heard glass breaking outside just after midnight last night. It woke him up. He got up to have some water and looked out of the window. He thought he saw two women wearing cloaks running across the quadrangle, although he cannot be certain.”

Evander addressed Shaw. “Do you mind checking the quadrangle before you join us in Whitley’s lab?”

“Not at all, your Grace.”

Cecillia gave the forensic mage directions before escorting the rest of them into the south wing of the Institute, where some of the advanced research laboratories were housed. Few students were visible as they navigated the corridors, the atmosphere there more subdued than in the main building.

Unlike the standard classrooms and lecture halls they passed, Whitley’s laboratory was located in a secluded annex accessible through a heavy oak door reinforced with iron bands and bolts.

“Professor Whitley valued his privacy,” Cecillia explained at their expressions as she produced a key and a magic-enchanted seal. “Only he and a select few students were permitted entry into this lab.”

She used the seal to undo the wards on the bolts and turned the key in the lock.

The chamber they entered was a feat of magical engineering.

Tall windows lined one wall, flooding the space with natural light that illuminated workbenches covered with apparatus both familiar and esoteric.

Glass tubes and alembics connected by copper pipes formed intricate networks across one table, while another held crystalline structures suspended in various stages of formation.

Bookshelves crammed with texts and journals interspersed with cabinets containing specimens and magical ingredients covered the remaining walls.

“Impressive,” Leon murmured, his eyes bright with professional admiration.

Evander felt a similar appreciation as he examined the chamber. It was clear Whitley’s laboratory represented decades of dedicated research.

“This is where James spent most of his time?” Rufus asked.

Cecillia nodded. “According to Hunniford, he was here late the past few nights, before his disappearance.”

Rufus moved to inspect a large slate board covered with complex equations and diagrams while Leon drifted towards a collection of enchanted instruments near the windows.

Evander walked to the centre of the room.

He stopped, closed his eyes, and released a pulse of elemental power as he focused all his senses on his surroundings.

The familiar scents of alchemical reagents, parchment, and the magical residue of the experiments Whitley and Thornfield had carried out in the laboratory filled his nostrils.

He stiffened after a moment.

Beneath the expected smells he’d detected lurked something else—a faint, oily trace that made his skin crawl.

“Dark magic was performed here.” Evander opened his eyes and frowned. “Recently.”

Leon turned. “Are you certain?” he asked sharply.

“Yes.” Evander followed the unpleasant remnant to the far corner of the laboratory.

The ambient magic in the room rippled against his skin as he approached, like water after a stone has been cast into it. The disturbance led him to a dark stain on the floorboards in front of a bookcase.

The others joined him as he knelt beside the residue.

“What is that?” Cecillia asked nervously.

The substance was viscous and black, with an iridescent sheen that gleamed when light struck it at certain angles.

Evander was reminded of what they’d discovered inside Millbrook’s body a few weeks ago. According to Ambrose Mortimer, the chief medical examiner of the AFD, it was most likely the breakdown product of dark magic.

He removed a small glass vial from his coat pocket.

“Be careful,” Rufus warned.

“I will.”

Evander collected a sample of the residue before bringing it to his nose so he could take a sniff. He clenched his jaw.

Though faded, there was no mistaking the foul stench of dark magic it emitted.

He put away the vial and straightened before examining the bookcase more closely. It appeared as unremarkable as the others in the room, its shelves filled with leather-bound volumes on elemental theory.

“Something happened here,” Evander said with a frown. “Something that meant someone had to use dark magic.”

Rufus reached for one of the books. He jerked and recoiled when magic crackled against his fingers an inch from the shelf.

“This bookcase is warded!”

Evander’s pulse quickened. “Allow me.”

He extended his hand cautiously, not quite touching the surface. The air around his fingertips grew warm when he encountered the wards. Heat licked his veins, bringing forth a faint aura of fire magic.

Cecillia drew a sharp breath as sparks came to life in front of Evander. They formed a shimmer that rippled as he carefully probed the ward. He narrowed his eyes.

The magic within it was complex. He could sense layers of defensive spells designed to repel casual handling. Something dark lurked beneath them.

“Ingenious,” Evander murmured. “The outer wards are standard protection, but there is some kind of trigger mechanism underlying them.”

Rufus scowled. “A trigger? For what?”

“My best guess is anyone attempting to force their way through these spells would activate something quite unpleasant.”

Leon moved to his side and cast his own magic, his hand mirroring Evander’s movements with elegant precision.

“A nested ward with a shadow trap.” The Frenchman arched an eyebrow at him. “Shall I?”

Evander couldn’t help but smile faintly. “Be my guest.”

“What is he doing?” Cecillia asked with a confused frown while Leon shrugged out of his coat and carefully folded it before placing it on the back of a chair.

Rufus looked similarly puzzled.

“He is going to remove the ward,” Evander said quietly. “Let’s give him some space.”