The Institute is not one building, but two. The building we’ve left looks like a conference center from the outside. The six-story building we’re walking to now looks residential. Room windows punched in regular, near-identical shapes along the outer wall, no balconies.

The bridge is a few stories up, but it’s high enough that I can see the grounds below. A garden maze, a fountain, a courtyard lit by electric lampposts. A kidney-shaped pool sits right beneath us; I hear a waterfall.

The Institute is undeniably, incredibly modern. More this century than any other building the Order has shown me.

The archaic language, the restored antiques in the Lodge, the robes, the rituals—I see them all for what they are now. Tools to immerse the young Scions and Squires and Pages in their own legends. The Regents keep the stories so alive that the Legendborn don’t see the reality of what the Order has become.

When I see an aether dome overhead, it takes everything in me not to cry with relief. I have my magical Sight, even if the aether’s color seems muted. I catch a whiff of signatures, several of them. The serum had been designed for Legendborn Scions, so maybe Vera’s inheritances aren’t fully suppressed, just dampened.

The dome starts at the edge of the sidewalk that circles the building below, arches up over the glass bridge, and curves all the way down to the other side, engulfing everything. I wonder if such a ward around the Institute is standard procedure, or if the Merlins are casting it just for me.

Erebus notices my gaze. “The Mageguard have been posted here since you awoke, and they’ll work in shifts to maintain the barrier and keep you safe until I release them.”

When we exit the bridge, it’s like walking into a five-star hotel. Erebus takes me to another elevator, and we ride to the top floor. There is only one room at this level at the very end of a long hall. A faint silver layer of aether hovers over its wooden door.

At the door, Erebus produces a card from his coat pocket and swipes it over a keycard lock. The light on the side of the box flashes from red to green, but instead of opening the door like a normal hotel, he raises his other hand to the center of the wood. His palm presses into the sheen of aether, and an unwarded circle grows from his fingertips outward until it covers the entire entrance. Only then does he grasp the knob. The door opens with a quiet hiss.

Double locks: technological and magical.

At first glance, the room is a modern studio apartment. A kitchen on the right, with two cabinets over a sink. A living room furnished in gray and gold. A bed on the far wall and a door that leads to a bathroom.