The elevator carried us higher through the Ebony Tower, past levels I hadn't seen during our initial journey to Paul's office. As we approached the 210th floor, the ambient magical energy grew noticeably denser, pressing against my consciousness like a physical weight.
"Fair warning," Paul said as the elevator slowed to a stop, "the archive can be overwhelming on first viewing. We have materials here that most necromancers consider mythical."
The doors opened to reveal a corridor that immediately felt different from the rest of the tower. The walls here weren't just black stone—they were lined with containment fields that hummed with barely restrained power. Protective wards layered upon protective wards created a sensation of walking through concentrated magic.
