Monday morning hit me like a freight train. The weekend's tension had left me with dark circles under my eyes that rivaled Jovan's, who looked like he'd been through digital hell and back. His fingers twitched around his fourth energy drink of the morning, eyes so bloodshot they could've been used as warning signals.

  "Anything?" I asked, dropping into the chair beside him.

  "Nothing." His voice cracked from exhaustion. "Three nights of surveillance. Not a single suspicious ping on our networks or around the Archives."

  Goran continued his methodical pacing at the head of the table, scrolling through reports on his tablet. The constant movement reminded me of a caged tiger, powerful, calculating, dangerous if provoked. I couldn't shake the feeling he knew more than he was letting on.

  Milenko shuffled his papers with academic precision, arranging them in neat stacks that probably made sense only to him. Unlike Jovan, he seemed energized by our discoveries, a scholar who'd stumbled onto the academic equivalent of buried treasure.

  My gaze shifted to Ljiljana. Her customary grandmotherly demeanor had disappeared, replaced by a weightier presence. She sat perfectly still, hands folded on the table, her eyes distant. She remained upset about our decision to share our findings with Goran this morning. For some reason, she was too reluctant to even entertain the possibility that the shadow network theory was more than mere conspiracy.

  "Let's begin," Goran finally announced, placing his tablet down with deliberate care. "Jovan, could you please summarize the weekend's surveillance."

  "Three nights, continuous monitoring of all Archive systems and physical perimeter. No suspicious activity detected." Jovan's fingers drummed an anxious rhythm against his can. "Either they're lying low or..."

  "Or they already have what they needed," I finished.

  "Impossible," Goran stated. "The physical documents remain secure, and the digital files they accessed were encrypted blanks."

  "We maintained constant surveillance on all access points to the Archives," Jovan continued, his voice picking up momentum as he slipped into technical reporting mode. "Every entrance, main, service, even the maintenance tunnels, has been covered by both physical and magical monitoring systems. Not even a mouse could've gotten through without triggering at least three different alerts."

  I rubbed my bruised arm, the pain still persistent despite the weekend's rest. "What about digital intrusions? Any attempts to breach the firewall remotely?"

  Jovan shook his head, the gesture making his disheveled hair even more chaotic. "Nothing. I personally monitored all network traffic. We installed those new energy resonance scanners on the main server farm, they can detect even the faintest charm echo trying to piggyback on data packets. All systems are running at baseline."

  "And the physical documents?" Goran asked, his voice controlled but tense.

  "Secure in the vault," Milenko confirmed. "I checked them myself this morning. The binding spells Ljiljana placed on them remain undisturbed."

  Something wasn't adding up. Professionals don't just abandon a job halfway through, especially after going to such lengths. The shooters at the United Force pub weren't amateurs, they were calculated, efficient. People who operate like that don't simply give up.

  "This doesn't make sense," I huffed, more to myself than the room. "They should have figured out that the digital files are useless by now. They know where the physical copies are kept. Why not make a move?"

  Goran stopped his pacing, his eyes meeting mine with unexpected intensity. "Because most probably they know we're watching," he said, his voice dropping an octave. "They know we've heightened security. They know we're expecting them."

  "So they're waiting us out?" I asked.

  "Precisely." Goran nodded. "They've invested considerable resources into this operation. The surveillance, the specialized hacking tools, the professional hit team. They won't abandon their objective. They're simply adapting their timeline."

  "But we can't maintain this level of security indefinitely," Jovan protested, crushing his empty can.

  "No we can't," Goran replied. "We need to align with Dr. Proti? on our further steps."

  "Wait," I interrupted, suddenly aware of a crucial detail we had overlooked. "Has anyone seen Dr. Proti? while monitoring over the weekend? He should have been checking in to oversee security every day."

  The room fell silent, with expressions confirming that no one had seen him.

  Jovan was scrolling through the feeds. "Pulling up Archive security now..." His face paled as he scrolled through timestamp after timestamp. "He hasn't swiped his access card since Friday morning."

  "That can't be right," Goran grumbled, moving behind Jovan to peer at his screen. "Check the interior cameras."

  "No visual confirmation of him anywhere in the building since Friday at 2:43 PM," Jovan confirmed, voice tight with growing concern.

  I turned to Milenko. "You've been aligning with him on these documents. Have you spoken with him recently?"

  Milenko adjusted his reading glasses, frowning. "I tried calling him yesterday afternoon about some notations in Pan?i?'s journal. Wanted his opinion on a particular section where the botanical descriptions seemed deliberately misleading." He shook his head. "Went straight to voicemail. I left a message but never heard back."

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  Goran's jaw tightened, a subtle tell I'd learned to recognize when he was genuinely worried. "I attempted to reach him twice over the weekend to discuss security protocols. No response. I assumed he was simply avoiding work calls during his off hours."

  I stood up, unable to contain my restless energy. "It's Monday morning, nearly 9:30. The man is punctual to a fault according to his staff. Where is he?"

  Goran turned to Ljiljana, his voice deliberately measured. "Call the Archives. Check if Proti? called in sick or took leave."

  She nodded, pulling out her antique cell phone, one of those indestructible Nokias from another era that she refused to upgrade. As she stepped into the hallway to make the call, I gestured to Jovan.

  "Let's get a closer look at those feeds."

  We hunched over my laptop as Jovan established a secure connection to the Archives' surveillance system. His fingers flew across the keyboard, bypassing security protocols with practiced ease. Windows cascaded across my screen, each displaying a different section of the building.

  "Main reading room, east wing," Jovan said, enlarging one feed. A dozen or so researchers sat at wooden tables, poring over documents under the watchful eyes of staff members. Nothing unusual there.

  I tapped another window. "Check the rare manuscript section."

  The camera revealed two archivists in white gloves carefully cataloging a stack of yellowed papers. Their movements were methodical, almost reverential, typical behavior for professionals handling historical materials.

  "Everything looks normal," I said, scanning the various feeds. "No signs of forced entry, no suspicious characters lurking in corners."

  Jovan nodded, clicking through additional camera angles. "Staff break room clear. Director's office empty. Reference desk operating as usual."

  We watched a gray-haired woman assist a young student with locating materials, pointing to something on a computer screen with practiced efficiency.

  "What about the secure storage area?" I asked.

  Jovan pulled up that feed, revealing a heavy door with an electronic keypad. The corridor leading to it was empty, the door firmly closed.

  "Access log shows nobody's been in since Friday afternoon when the security team did their regular sweep," he confirmed, checking the digital records.

  I leaned back, rubbing my eyes. The normality was almost unsettling. "Everything's running like clockwork. If something happened to Proti?, it wasn't at the Archives."

  Ljiljana returned, her expression grim. "Archives staff said he sent a message yesterday stating he feels a bit ill and he will not be coming today."

  "A bit ill? And in the middle of potential breach?" I asked.

  "This doesn't make sense," I said, pushing back from the desk. "Whatever I think of Proti? personally, the man wouldn't abandon his precious archives during a potential security threat. He's obsessively protective of those documents, you saw how he reacted when we suggested there might be a breach."

  Goran's expression darkened. "Agreed. Even with our security measures in place, he would have insisted on being present."

  "The timing is too convenient," I continued, mind racing. "First the breach, then our discovery about the shadow network documents, and now Proti? disappears right when we've heightened security? Something's wrong."

  Goran nodded grimly, already pulling out his phone. "I'm calling for a police welfare check at his residence. I have a guy who owes me a favor."

  As Goran stepped aside to make the call, I turned to Jovan. "Let's review the Archive security footage from the past few days, Friday specifically. Let's see exactly when Proti? left and if anyone unusual was hanging around."

  Jovan nodded, multiple windows opened on his screen as he accessed the Archive's security database.

  "There, Friday afternoon," I pointed at a timestamp. The grainy footage showed Proti? exiting the main doors at precisely 14:07, briefcase in hand. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary, but something about his posture seemed different.

  Jovan continued scrolling through footage, working backward through Friday morning. "Nothing unusual in the morning... wait, what's this?"

  The footage showed Proti?'s secretary, Marina, leaving through a side entrance at 15:27, glancing nervously over her shoulder as she exited.

  "That's not right," Milenko said immediately. "Marina never leaves before 5 PM. Proti?'s schedule wouldn't allow it."

  "And look at her body language," I added. "She's practically radiating anxiety. Keeps looking back at the building."

  Goran rejoined us, his expression grim. "Police are sending a unit to Proti?'s apartment now."

  "Let's head to the Archives right now," I said, grabbing my phone from the desk. "We need to talk to Marina face-to-face."

  "Agreed," Goran nodded. "If anyone knows what happened to Proti?, it's her."

  "I'll drive," Milenko offered. "We can be there in fifteen minutes if traffic cooperates."

  As the team gathered their equipment, Milenko caught my sleeve, pulling me into the small research alcove away from the others. His eyes had the particular intensity I'd come to recognize when historical knowledge had contemporary consequences.

  "There's something else about the Meridian Society you need to understand," he whispered, glancing over his shoulder to ensure we weren't overheard. "Their work wasn't just academic curiosity."

  "What do you mean?" I kept my voice low, sensing his urgency.

  Milenko removed his glasses, polishing them nervously. "The Society was founded as a direct challenge to the Book Keeper system. They fundamentally rejected the idea that magical energy should be controlled by select individuals."

  "Like Ljiljana," I said, the implications starting to form in my mind.

  "Exactly." He nodded gravely. "Instead, they developed a scientific approach, a network of nodes and channels that could distribute magical energy like a utility. No gatekeepers, no hierarchies."

  I felt a chill run down my spine. "So whoever's after these fragments..."

  "Could potentially bypass traditional magical power structures entirely." Milenko's voice had dropped to barely a whisper. "If someone reassembles the complete Codex and activates the network, they'd essentially create something akin to a 'magical internet', free access to magical energy for anyone who could connect to it."

  "Christ," I muttered, running a hand through my hair. "That would upend everything."

  "More than you realize," Milenko continued. "Every magical organization, Red Peruna, Senka Da?boga, all of them, are built around controlled access to magical energy. Book Keepers are the foundation of that system. This network would render them..." he hesitated, "potentially obsolete."

  The weight of his words settled over me. No wonder Ljiljana had been so disturbed by our discoveries.

  "The implications would be revolutionary," Milenko concluded, replacing his glasses. "And potentially catastrophic. Imagine magical energy suddenly accessible to anyone with the right connection, no training, no ethical frameworks, no limitations."

  "Let's wrap this up and head out," I said, grabbing my enchanted phone while Milenko collected his notes.

  Ljiljana intercepted us at the doorway, her expression unreadable. "You two go ahead. I'm staying to dig deeper into this Society thing."

  Milenko and I exchanged glances.

  "That's good to hear," I said with a half-smile. "Does this mean you're finally coming around to our theory?"

  Ljiljana just snorted and left.

  "Don't get your hopes up too high," Milenko added as we stepped into the hallway. "But it would be great to have her on board with this."