The next morning, the inn was already bustling with activity. Scholars hunched over their scrolls, mages debated arcane theories in hushed, urgent whispers, and the air was thick with the scent of old paper, brewing herbs, and a strange, metallic tang that Emily couldn't quite place.
Adrien had woken them early, a steaming pot of tea and a tray of sweet, flaky pastries waiting for them in their room. He was already dressed, his long purple hair tied back in a neat, simple tail, a look of quiet determination on his face.
"Today is the day," he said, his voice a low, steady murmur, as he poured them each a cup of tea. "We go to the Athenaeum."
Stella, still in her human form, was already awake, perched on the edge of her bed, her arms crossed, a look of profound distaste on her face. "And do what, exactly? Knock on the door and ask nicely if we can come in and poke through their secrets? They'll throw us out on our ears."
