Dorothy’s Forbidden Grimoire Novel - Chapter 473

Chapter 473**Ivig, Adriya.**

Night had fallen over Adriya, and in a secluded suite within an upscale restaurant, Dorothy sat quietly, eyes fixed on the open “Sea of Texts Navigation.” Her gaze lingered on Nevis’s handwriting as she mulled over the insights she’d drawn from Davios’s records.

‘Davios states that to reach the White Ash tier on the Path of Possession, the advancement ceremony must be performed at a specific type of spiritual site—one with the appropriate ambient properties. But places like that are scarce and heavily secured. Most of the prominent loci are either monitored by national extraordinary agencies and the Glorious Church, or under lockdown by the Underworld Coffin Society. To carry out a spirit-releasing ritual right under their watch would be nearly impossible. Clearly, the smarter move is to look for a site that’s not under anyone’s jurisdiction.

‘Only a few such unclaimed spiritual loci exist, and they’re all located away from the heart of the Main Continent’s Church-dominated culture zone—specifically, in the New Continent and North Ufia. The New Continent hosts untouched, spirit-saturated wildernesses; North Ufia, on the other hand, is known for its ancient crypts.

‘On paper, the New Continent is safer for Nevis. Capac and the Tupa Tribe are based there, and with Old Utar the Shaman’s influence, securing a ritual site shouldn’t pose much difficulty. The problem is—I’m not planning to go there. If Nevis chooses that route, she’ll have to travel alone, and it’s a long journey.

‘In contrast, I’m already set to pass through North Ufia. While I lack contacts and detailed information about the tombs and potential dangers, I’ll be there. Nevis could accompany me, and we’d have each other’s support. But there’s no guarantee we’ll find a locus. She might go all that way only to return empty-handed.’

Dorothy studied the written script in the book once more. After her battle with Adif, she’d acquired multiple Soul Container Bone Plaques—ideal tools for the White Ash ritual, provided the spirits involved were properly calmed. Which meant the only missing piece was a viable spiritual site for the ritual. Solve that, and Nevis could ascend.

‘I’ll let Nevis decide. It’s her progression, after all.’ Having reached her conclusion, Dorothy shut the “Sea of Texts Navigation,” leaned back into the couch, and gave a long, luxurious stretch.

“Heading to Ufia, finally. After spending over two weeks here lounging and exploring… it’s oddly hard to part ways.”

She turned to look out the window, where Adriya’s waters shimmered under night lighting. The city was a soothing retreat. Her time here had softened her tension.

‘Lovely place. But what I came here to await has passed. My business is done, preparations are ready. Time to move.

‘Though… one last treat before I leave.’

With that, she straightened and focused on the table in front of her. Resting at the center was a beautifully designed cream cake, small but detailed, garnished with fresh fruit and delicate touches.

Her eyes then moved to an opened telegram beside the dessert. The message, in simple Pritter characters, read:

**“Happy Birthday, Dorothy.”**

“I did just send Steven a full White Ash gear kit… plus an easy credit card loaded with funds. Maybe I can skip his gift next year?”

She chuckled softly as she set the telegram aside, turning her attention to a box of slim, colorful candles near the cake. One by one, she carefully pushed them into the pastry. Fourteen candles made the tiny dessert look overcrowded.

‘Too many candles, too little cake… Just me eating it, anyway. Funny, reminds me of my *actual* fourteenth birthday. That time, the cake was massive, and there were people everywhere…’

A fleeting pang of wistful sadness crossed her face. She picked up the matchbox, struck one flame to life, and lit a single candle—then used it to set the rest aglow.

The flames shimmered gently in the dim room as Dorothy watched them, silently marking the date: March 27th. The birthday of Dorothy Meshers.

She stared at the warm candlelight for a few seconds more before whispering into the silence,

“Still… Happy fourteenth birthday, Dorothy.”

And then, she drew in a deep breath and blew out all fourteen flames in one go.

—

**Morning. Bright skies.**

The Conqueror Sea stretched endlessly under a radiant blue sky, where strong gusts carried the scent of salt, and rolling waves surged rhythmically. A large white passenger vessel cruised steadily southward across the ocean in early April.

On deck, Nevis stood wrapped in a flowing dress and a scarf tied over her hair, squinting toward the sun-drenched horizon. The wind tugged at her garments as she raised a hand to block the sun’s glare and muttered,

“It’s getting warmer by the day. This sun… Tivian weather never felt this harsh.”

Dorothy, beside her, answered casually, “Desert climate in North Ufia. Far more intense than Tivian. The sea breeze softens the heat out here, but once we land… that’s when you’ll really feel it.”

Nevis paused, mulling over the words, but her eyes lit up as she added cheerfully,

“So it’s that hot, huh? Then I can wear my summer clothes! Even the really cute ones! Oh, and my beachwear too—”

“Beachwear? Seriously, Nevis?” Dorothy turned to face her. “You do realize that most of your summer outfits show a lot of skin. In North Ufia, you’ll get roasted alive. And it’s not just the heat—conservative customs run deep there. Dress like that, and you’re bound to attract trouble. Better buy some local clothing once we arrive.”

The warning wiped the cheer from Nevis’s face, replacing it with disappointed resignation.

“Ugh… right. I totally forgot about the cultural stuff in North Ufia. What a shame.”

As Nevis sighed, Dorothy glanced over, then blinked thoughtfully before changing topics.

“Uf’s situation is unstable. You’ll want to tread carefully. Honestly, I’m still surprised you decided to come with me. Tomb-diving in Uf is way more dangerous than looking for a site in the New Continent’s wilds.”

It was a question that had lingered since Nevis’s choice. When asked about her preference for the advancement site, she’d picked Uf almost immediately—something Dorothy hadn’t expected.

“Hmm… how should I explain it?” Nevis tapped a finger to her lips. “Even with all the risk… you’re going, aren’t you? Heading to North Ufia together just feels… safer. With you around, it doesn’t seem as dangerous. But the New Continent? Even if nothing went wrong, I’d still be uneasy going alone.”

Dorothy’s eye twitched faintly at the logic, then replied, “I see…”

Nevis nodded. “That’s the main reason. The other? I’ve always wanted to visit North Ufia. Grandpa made his name there… had his fiercest rivals… met Grandma. It’s been in my family’s stories since I was born. I need to see it with my own eyes.”

Dorothy digested that quietly before speaking again.

“You got everything squared away with your university?”

“Yeah. Sent a message via Mr. Nunot—told them I had urgent family matters back in Tivian. Took full responsibility for traveling on my own. So I’ve officially separated from the school group.”

Dorothy gave an approving nod. Given how volatile Uf had become, tagging along with an academic party would’ve been a disaster. Nevis making her own exit simplified matters considerably.

After more discussion, the two eventually retreated inside and headed for their individual cabins. Dorothy sat near the window in her stateroom, her attention caught by the day’s newspaper resting on her table. The lead headline read:

**“Sacred Mountain Urges Calm in Ados Conflict: Calls for Peace Under Holy Trinity. Declares Intent to Mediate; Commits to Church-Guided Resolution…**

**Envoy Appointed: Sister Faylinn Chapel to Head Delegation, Mission of Reconciliation Underway…”**

Dorothy frowned, eyes narrowing on Faylinn’s name in bold print. It wasn’t the first time she’d seen it pop up recently.

Back during her Adriya stay, she’d come across similar rumors—Faylinn, the nun who had distinguished herself during the Summertree Island incident, being considered for an envoy role to Ados. The moment Dorothy read that, she contacted Faylinn, who at the time was still publicly promoting Church initiatives in the Sacred Precincts. But Faylinn hadn’t heard a word about any assignment—nor had her handlers told her anything.

The whole situation reeked of hidden maneuvering. Either the press had fabricated the story, or someone was deliberately pushing an agenda. But the fact that so many outlets echoed the same narrative made it clear—it wasn’t coincidence.

And sure enough, Faylinn had been whisked into the envoy position bound for Uf. One moment she was still engaged in promotional work; the next, she was being escorted to the Church naval facility in Adriya. Less than a day after Dorothy departed, Faylinn boarded a Church fleet en route to Uf.

The move blindsided Faylinn, who barely had time to process what was happening before she was ushered onto a ship. To Dorothy, it was obvious: this was a political ploy. Someone in the upper tiers of Church politics had used her as a pawn.

‘They still think she’s just a figurehead. But she’s *just* relevant enough to get dragged into their schemes. This wasn’t a promotion—it was collateral damage. One faction pushed her into that role precisely because they needed her there.

‘And now, she’s headed straight into the storm in Ados. Since I’m going that way too… I need to understand what’s unfolding.’

Resolute, Dorothy pulled out her Magic Box and reopened the “Sea of Texts Navigation,” flipping pages until she reached Beverly’s correspondence section.

She took a moment, then wrote:

**“Available? Need intel.”**

She expected a wait, but within seconds, text appeared.

**“Query?”**

Surprised by the speed, Dorothy scribbled,

**“That quick? Just happened to be near your book?”**

**“Not at all. Book sits in a custom rig tied directly to my thoughts. Built a mechanical arm with pneumatic typing that responds as soon as I think a reply. Doesn’t matter where I am.”**

Dorothy blinked in amazement. Leave it to Beverly to solve distance problems with raw ingenuity.

Quill in hand again, she continued:

**“Brilliant setup. My question’s about current events in Uf—specifically Ados. What can you tell me?”**

**“Ados? Oh yes, fascinating theater. Been monitoring closely. What do you need? Fair warning—anything involving Guild client data stays classified. No exceptions.”**

The response came fast, each letter sharp and precise. Dorothy imagined a flurry of gears and keys clicking in unison.

**“Understood. I’m only after general intel—info that’s already floating around Aditian extraordinary circles. That okay?”**

After a pause, the reply arrived:

**“Acceptable. Here’s the summary: The Baruch Dynasty became hopelessly corrupt. Not just greedy—actively acting as puppets for major Main Continent powers. They sold out their people. It was only a matter of time before rebellion erupted.”**

**“So a civil war rooted in mundane corruption?” Dorothy wrote. “Doesn’t sound like it involves the extraordinary all that much.”**

The reply came rapidly:

**“That’s a surface read. In truth, the religious component is huge. The rebels gained traction by aligning with a Glorious Church offshoot—the Savior Descent. That sect rallied the masses and provided mystical muscle to counter the dynasty’s extraordinary troops. That’s why they took the capital so fast. The Church can’t afford to ignore them now.”**

Dorothy paused before asking:

**“Savior Descent? I thought they were heretics. And they’re active *there*?”** Her understanding of Uf leaned toward “Silence”-path syndicates and grave looters—*not* renegade Church factions.

**“Active? They *flourish* there. Savior Descent’s philosophy meshes perfectly with local beliefs. They’ve dug in deep, and they’re loud about it.”**