Dorothy’s Forbidden Grimoire Novel - Chapter 460

Chapter 460**Northern coastline of the Conqueror Sea, Adria.**

Sunlight crept through the high windows of a lavish suite in Adria, casting a golden haze over Dorothy as she stood barefoot, clad in light garments, her gaze locked to the ground.

Sprawled across nearly the entire suite floor was a colossal map—an immense two-to-three-meter spread, clearly necessitating the bed’s removal to make space. The polished floor had become a temporary staging ground for something far more important.

This was no ordinary chart—it detailed all four continents of the world with painstaking care, the most comprehensive atlas Dorothy had been able to secure. Still, entire stretches of land remained irritatingly obscure.

The western reaches of the Homeland were illustrated with razor-sharp precision: capitals, cities, and minor settlements crowded the region, showcasing the area’s dense and shifting cultural landscape. To the south, the Ufia Continent appeared in slightly fuzzier focus, with the northern sections better mapped than its wilder south. On the far west, Starfall Continent stood only half-revealed—its eastern boundaries meticulously sketched, but its colonial periphery gradually dissolved into guesswork. The far north of the Homeland, near the polar edge, was little more than a silhouette.

This kind of detailed layout was exactly what Dorothy required for her pendulum divination. With only a single shot at the ritual, she couldn’t afford vagueness. A wide, unrestricted surface was absolutely essential for accuracy.

She exhaled slowly, taking in the vast geography beneath her. From her handbag she retrieved a violet quartz pendant, its tapered crystal gleaming faintly. Shoes abandoned, Dorothy stepped directly onto the map and walked with care toward its center—stopping just above the City of Radiance, the symbolic core of the Homeland. There, she held the pendant aloft, letting it dangle—its sharpened point hovering like a compass needle over the paper.

“I seek the location of the Path of Pure Reason’s Crimson Rank ascension rite,” she said aloud, the words sealing the ritual into motion.

She channeled her intent. A point of Lamp, a point of Enlightenment—terms of anchoring the rite. The quartz responded, beginning to sway in unpredictable paths, meandering over unnamed areas until it hit an invisible stream that carried it with purpose—southward.

Eventually, the movement ceased. The crystal leaned, pointing forward like a finger of fate.

Dorothy followed its pull, walking over terrain as if treading on woven geography. Southward past the Homeland, across the Conqueror Sea, the pendant’s motion grew more insistent until it halted with gravity over Northern Ufia. She knelt, taking care not to stir the air around her, and let the crystal gently touch the map. Its chilled tip aligned with a precise but unmarked coordinate—eastward, deep within the Kingdom of Ados’s northern expanse.

She uncapped a pen and marked the spot.

The quartz’s glow faded instantly—its mystical charge spent. It turned plain again, just a piece of stone. Dorothy returned it to her pocket and lowered herself onto the couch, her thoughts racing.

*North Ufia… That’s where my Crimson Rank ritual lies? Among ruins left behind by the First Dynasty? Could fragments of the Enlightenment Path still breathe in that place?*

*The First Dynasty worshipped the Heavenly Judge, didn’t they? And weren’t they devout seekers of Enlightenment? That relic I found originated from North Ufia—the pattern on its surface mirrored Imperial design. The pieces are lining up—dead empires leaving echoes. Could the Star Chronology Scribe Society be their inheritor in spirit?*

*If I want to ascend, I’ll have to travel to Ufia’s untamed frontier—an entirely different continent. How much time have I already wasted in Arnsdel, digging up ancient bones? Do I abandon that mission and head straight south? Or detour through Tivian to re-equip?*

Her eyes lingered on the now-dull pendant. She remembered its deeper nature, unraveled during her earlier investigation: *“The Reading Eye Key—designed to unlock the Grand Athenaeum. Access regulated by transmission cycles. This one grants entry to geographical archives only. Its window opens once every three years.”*

*That archive is sealed. The Star Chronology Scribe Society hides their entire collection behind what amounts to anti-divination barriers—the so-called Veil. And somewhere behind it lies their Grand Athenaeum. This Key doesn’t shatter that veil—it just opens small peeks through it, for brief moments.*

She let out a quiet laugh—dry and unimpressed.

*I thought this thing might force open a path. Wishful thinking. Turns out, it’s just a permission slip. And only when the gatekeepers decide to send one.*

*The pendant holds almost no active magic. The true power is remote—channeled from the Scribe Society’s inner sanctum. They flip the switch every three years. That’s all.*

*So these Keys must be assigned to multiple handlers. Mine taps into location data, then seals away again for who knows how long. Other Keys must be out there—tools lost to time, each unlocking their own secrets. Gateways to knowledge we’re not meant to have.*

Tucking the quartz into her Magic Box, Dorothy stretched out with a satisfied breath. *At least I’ve nailed down the ritual’s hiding place. Now, I can act.*

“Need to clear my head…” she murmured, rifling through her suitcase for something fit for outdoors. That was when a sudden mental shock flared—Nevis’s voice, raw and urgent, burst across the link.

“Great Akasha, patch me through to Dorothy! Urgency protocol! Emergency message!”

Dorothy froze, one arm halfway into a jacket. *Nevis? What the hell happened? Did something go wrong with the Thief K operation?*

She dropped back onto the sofa and summoned her *Sea of Texts Navigation*. Her fingers glided to Nevis’s entry.

“What’s the emergency, Senior Nevis?” she sent.

The response came instantly, trembling through the page:

“Miss Dorothy! We have a situation! A disaster! Nuno is missing—completely gone!”

*Nuno? Her family’s steward? Disappeared?*

Dorothy’s knuckles tightened around the book.

“Explain. In detail,” she wrote.

The next lines spilled out rapidly, ink shaking with urgency:

“Father’s still recovering—his condition from the curse hasn’t improved. He’s convalescing out in the countryside, far from the city. Nuno kept Tivian functioning—he oversaw all estate business while I was away. After I left, staff continued their routines at Drummond Street. But on Coronation Day—just yesterday—he dismissed the household early for the holiday. The next morning, servants arrived to find the place ransacked. Not looted—*devastated*. Everything torn apart. And Nuno… gone without a trace.”

“People panicked immediately. Police were contacted. Telegrams started flying. They tried not to disturb Father, as Nuno had instructed. But they knew I was in Adria—I’d sent my coordinates ahead of time. Word traveled fast. I got the alert only minutes ago.”