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“Indeed I have. We were just discussing my findings.” The cryptologist gestured to the sheets of notepaper covered in complex calculations and translations spread around the leather-bound tome.

“The professor encoded much of his work, particularly in the later sections. But once I identified the cipher—a rather clever adaptation of a Vigenère square using alchemical symbols—the text became quite clear.”

“And?” Rufus prompted impatiently.

A hard smile curved Richfield’s mouth. “There’s a map hidden within the journal’s endpapers. When exposed to the right magical frequency, it revealed architectural plans for an extensive underground facility.”

She held up a sheet of translucent paper upon which she had traced the revealed design. It showed a series of interconnected chambers and passages arranged in a circular pattern around a large central space.

“When we overlay this with the sketch from Whitley’s journal”—McAndrew carefully placed a second transparent sheet atop the first—“we get this.”

Evander’s breath caught. The combined images formed a complete blueprint of what appeared to be an elaborate subterranean complex, with annotations in both Whitley and Chevalier’s handwriting.

“Cor blimey,” Shaw mumbled. “That’s a research facility? It’s enormous!”

Viggo lowered his brows. “Does the journal indicate its location?”

“That’s where things get interesting. I was just about to tell McAndrew and Comte Beaulieu what I discovered in the last hour.

” Richfield’s eyes were bright with the thrill of discovery.

“Chevalier’s notes referenced a connection to ‘the cradle of arcane learning’ and ‘foundations laid upon older foundations.’”

Coldness ignited in Evander’s chest and spread through his body when he recognised the words.

“The Royal Institute for the Arcane,” Leon mumbled hoarsely, the blood draining from his face. He met Evander’s gaze dazedly. “It was built upon the ruins of a magical academy destroyed in the Great Fire.”

A stunned silence fell over the room.

“So it’s been right under our noses all this time?” Shaw said, aghast.

“The audacity is breathtaking,” McAndrew admitted grudgingly. “It’s the last place anyone would think to look. And I bet the ambient magic in that place helped mask their activities.”

“The Institute covers a lot of ground,” Rufus said uneasily. “Can we narrow down this facility’s location in relation to the existing buildings?”

Richfield lowered her brows. “There were some strange numbers in Chevalier’s journal I couldn’t make heads or tail out of. Now that I think about it, they could be formulas for coordinates. I would need a blueprint of the Institute to verify them.”

Leon narrowed his eyes. “The Institute and the academy that preceded it date back centuries. It’s been expanded numerous times. There could be whole sections that aren’t on any official plans.”

“I know who might have a copy of the original blueprint,” Evander said in a hard voice. The enormity of the truth that had been uncovered made his stomach roil.

Or rather, the elaborate ruse.

It was becoming clear that the sacred place of learning he had long looked up to masked many abhorrent secrets.

“Can you find Quentin Inkwell?” he asked Shaw. “I wager he has a map of the Institute.”

The forensic mage nodded sharply and left the office. She returned minutes later with the Met’s only Occult Researcher. Inkwell looked his normal flustered self as he entered the office, his eyes large and bemused behind his enchanted glasses.

“What is this about, your Grace?” he asked anxiously.

Evander spotted the rolled-up parchment under his arm. “Is that a map of the Royal Institute?”

“Yes. Miss Shaw said to bring it.”

“Can we have it please?” Evander asked briskly.

Inkwell reluctantly handed him the map.

Evander spread it out on the desk.

“I need a protractor and a ruler,” Richfield said.

Evander went round his desk, opened a drawer, and passed her the tools.

Richfield checked the coordinates in Chevalier’s journal and made some complex calculations in her notebook.

Everyone held their breath when she began drawing lines on the blueprint.

“If I’m correct, these are the longitude and latitude. Which makes this final number depth.” She stood back and narrowed her eyes. “Based on my calculations, the principal entrance to the facility lies thirty feet beneath the Institute’s south wing.”

A buzzing sounded in Evander’s ears.

“Wait.” Shaw’s knuckles whitened on the edge of the desk. “Isn’t that the lecture hall where we fought Musgrave?!” She shot a stunned look at Evander.

Leon straightened, his expression growing animated. “That’s why Musgrave was there this morning. I must have caught him when he was exiting the facility!”

Viggo’s face hardened. “We need to go there right now. While there is still a chance Solomon and the missing thralls are alive.”

The Brute’s words jolted Evander out of his daze. He gathered his composure with some difficulty and levelled a frown at his lover. “I understand your feelings on this, but we cannot just go in blindly. We’ll be risking the lives of those who make up the rescue mission.”

Viggo looked like he wanted to protest. He hesitated and clenched his jaw.

“What do you suggest?” he asked brusquely.

Evander studied the map intently, his mind racing. “We’ll have to move quickly, but not recklessly. If Musgrave or his master catch wind of our plans, they could accelerate whatever they’re doing—or worse, move the captives elsewhere.”

“Or kill them,” Viggo added darkly.

Evander nodded gravely.

“This facility was clearly designed with defensive measures in mind.” He traced the concentric rings of the underground chambers. “And if they’re using thralls as conduits for magical energy, disrupting the process could be catastrophic for the captives.”

Viggo went as still as stone.

“Dammit. I didn’t think of that,” he confessed hoarsely.

Evander’s chest tightened at his pale complexion. He wanted nothing more than to take the Brute’s hand right now. His nails dug into his palms.

Winterbourne was right. There’s a risk my judgment may be compromised because of our relationship. But why is it that I find myself not caring about any of that right now?!

“How do we get in?” Shaw asked, distracting him from his turbulent thoughts. “There’s a chance Musgrave will have a brigade of shadow creatures watching that lecture hall.”

“You could use the sewers,” a voice suggested.

They looked around.

Inkwell swallowed nervously at their stares.

He came over and pointed at a small notation in the corner of the map.

“For example, this tunnel. It’s at the correct depth and is connected to the old Roman sewers that run beneath that part of London.

” He traced several other notations with his finger.

“These probably indicate passages that lead elsewhere in the city.”

Richfield blinked. “He’s right.”

Evander’s mouth went dry. “That makes sense considering the age of the Institute and the academy that preceded it.” He met Viggo’s gaze, his pulse racing. “This could work to our advantage. They wouldn’t expect an attack from below.”

“I know those sewers,” the Brute said grimly. “ Nightshade has used them before.”

“Then we have our way in.” Evander straightened, a plan forming in his mind. “We’ll need a coordinated approach—one team to secure the Institute aboveground and prevent reinforcements from joining the fight, another to infiltrate the facility from below.”

“I’ll lead the underground team,” Viggo declared adamantly.

“We’ll assign Met mages to go with you along with a group of officers,” Evander said firmly.

“I should join Viggo,” Leon suggested. “My Nullification Magic could prove crucial if we encounter magical barriers or traps.”

Surprise jolted Evander. Leon’s proposal made tactical sense. He met Viggo’s gaze.

“It’s your call.”

The Brute hesitated, a muscle twitching in his jawline.

“I would appreciate that,” he told Leon gruffly.

“This operation requires significant personnel,” Rufus pointed out with a frown.

“I’m sure Winterbourne will authorise a Met task force and a mage squad from the Arcane Division,” Evander said briskly.

Shaw grimaced. “Technically speaking, he already gave you carte blanche to do whatever you want, your Grace.”

“She’s right,” Rufus admitted grudgingly.

Evander came to a decision. “Very well.” He turned to the inspector. “Have a team of twenty assembled and ready to move within the hour. Everyone should be briefed on what we know of these shadow creatures and how to combat them.”

“And Musgrave?” Shaw asked tensely. “We haven’t had time to send officers to his home yet.”

“I suspect he’s at the facility.” Evander studied the map with a scowl.

“That’s probably where he disappeared off to this morning, when he detonated that device.

” He turned to McAndrew. “I know you’re still working on it, but how soon can you and Mrs. Scarborough complete that anti-shadow magic device I tasked you with? ”

The artificer scratched his head awkwardly. “I didn’t want to say anything yet, but we actually completed a working prototype last night.”

Evander’s stomach flip-flopped. “You did?!”

“Yes.” Wariness clouded McAndrew’s face at his expression. “Wait, your Grace. You’re not thinking of taking it on this mission, are you?!”

“That’s exactly what I’m proposing,” Evander said grimly.

Horror widened McAndrew’s eyes.

“Mrs. Scarborough’s going to have my hide,” he groaned. “She told me not to tell you for this very reason.”

“Yes, well, the cat’s out of the bag now,” Evander muttered.

The mage caught Viggo’s arm and drew him aside while the others dispersed to their assigned tasks and McAndrew left to give Mrs. Scarborough the unwelcome news.

“We’ll find Solomon,” he promised quietly.

Something raw and vulnerable flashed in Viggo’s dark eyes—a glimpse of the fear beneath his anger. “He’s like a brother to me, Evander. If they’ve hurt him?—”

Evander wished sorely he could offer more comfort than words. “Solomon is strong and he’s clever. If anyone can survive this, it’s him.”

Viggo nodded stiffly, his throat working as he swallowed.