"I think Milo might be onto something," I held up the pulsing parchment. "It's reacting."
Fenric's eye twitched in that way that told me he was deeply annoyed but trying to remain professional. "Very well. I'll prepare the necessary paperwork for a field expedition to the Swampy Quarter."
"Field expedition?" I perked up. "You mean I get to leave the apartment again?"
"Under strict supervision," Fenric clarified. "Given the sensitivity of this prophetic trial and the recent cultist attack, I'll need to assemble a full security detail."
"Or," Milo interjected, "we could just go check it out ourselves! Quick and easy!"
"Absolutely not," Fenric looked horrified. I think he would have choked if he had anything in his mouth.
"Actually," Milo leaned forward conspiratorially, "I was thinking it might be better if just Winter and I went. Small footprint, you know? Manticores are shy."
"That is the most absurd idea!"
"Think about it," Milo continued. "If she accidentally blows up reality, I'll just reanimate it!"
I choked on a laugh at Fenric's expression of pure outrage.
"That's not how reality works!" he spluttered and his ears were turning red..
"How do you know?" Milo challenged. "Have you ever tried reanimating it?"
Before Fenric could respond, his tablet chimed with an incoming message. He glanced at it, his expression shifting from outrage to concern.
"There's been an incident," he pulled things up on the screen. "A Level 2 prophetic anomaly in Crescent Park. All available agents are being called in."
"Level 4?" Zane stood up. "That's serious."
"Indeed," Fenric nodded grimly. "The park has been evacuated, but there are reports of temporal distortions and spontaneous transmutation events."
"So we're postponing the monster hunt?" I felt oddly disappointed.
Fenric hesitated, clearly torn between protocols. "The prophetic trial takes precedence according to Bureau guidelines, but this emergency..."
"I can take Winter to the Swampy Quarter," Milo volunteered eagerly. "Like I said, small footprint, less chance of spooking the manticore. You guys handle the park situation."
"That would violate at least seventeen security protocols," Fenric objected.
"But it would fulfill the prophecy requirements," Zane pointed out. "And time might be a factor here."
The scroll pulsed again in my hand, as if agreeing.
Fenric looked pained. "I cannot authorize this."
"I'll take full responsibility," Zane interrupted. "Let's go handle the Level 4. Rook and I will go with you, and you can file all the reports your bureaucratic heart desires afterward."
Rook, who had been silently observing, finally spoke. "I don't like it. The cultists are still out there."
"The Swampy Quarter is neutral territory," Milo assured him. "Protected by old magic. Even cultists respect the boundaries."
Fenric's tablet chimed again, more urgently this time. He glanced at it and sighed in defeat.
"Fine," his eye was twitching a little again. "But only to the Swampy Quarter and back. No detours, no unnecessary risks. And you will maintain constant communication." He fixed Milo with a stern glare. "If anything happens to her, the paperwork alone will ensure you spend the next century filing incident reports."
Milo saluted cheerfully. "Yes, sir! Operation Monster Home is a go!"
An hour later, Milo and I stood at the edge of the Swampy Quarter, a section of the city that seemed to exist in perpetual twilight. Twisted trees rose from murky water, their branches draped with phosphorescent moss that cast an eerie blue-green glow over everything. Wooden walkways, weathered and worn, provided precarious paths through the bog.
