This is just a tiny chapter, because well, we needed more cloak. We always need more cloak, really.
No copyright infringement intended.
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The cloak flew through the Sanctum at a high altitude and low speed. Gliding through the rafters near the ceiling effortlessly and leisurely, it listened unobtrusively to the sounds coming from below it; and above it at the other levels and floors of the Sanctum.
The hall of replicas was silent - the cloak knew intimately just how boring that place was - and the upper floors were empty at the moment. Lifeless and soundless, except the room almost exactly above where the cloak draped itself over a rafter for a rest. It sounded as if Elice was reading, if the sounds of slowly turned pages, soft breaths and lack of many other sounds were any indication.
The cloak liked Elice. Not just for the obvious reasons - she looked after Stephen well and was great at playing amusing games for sure - but there were other things as well. The cloak appreciated a good heart, and more so, it was proud of her for how openly she wore it on her sleeve as well. She was not afraid to care - even for a stranger, like she had taken Stephen to task about Pangborn - and the vulnerability in being that transparent didn't seem to faze her. The cloak was happy to know her.
It was happy to have Christine with them as well; especially now that she and Stephen had gotten back together in earnest. She was very different in the way that she cared, compared to the young Icelandic woman, but her caring was just as passionate. In the cloak's opinion, its mortal was lucky to have them both. And he probably knew it, too, which made the cloak both delighted and proud. Its chosen one was growing up.
As for Stephen, the cloak congratulated itself daily on its choice of Sorcerer. Much as he could be an arrogant pain, for sure, the newly appointed Sorcerer Supreme had his heart in the right place; and was also far braver than he gave himself credit for. The cloak did give him credit for it. It remembered, after all, their many times in the dark dimension - on that day.
Listening further for Christine and Stephen - they were in the kitchen, laughing as they teamed up to cook it seemed - the cloak congratulated itself on the three brave souls that had become its people.
Letting itself flop over and float down from the rafters, the cloak first checked in on the apprentice through her door which was left slightly open. She was indeed lying in her bed, reading a very heavy book with a soft smile.
Silently flying downstairs, the cloak spied on the two lovebirds next. Stephen was a good cook - his rational mind had easily mastered the art of adhering to recipes - and Christine did the bits involving sharp knives. They were cute, the cloak decided, flying back over to the library; deciding they deserved some time on their own.
And the cloak, after all, had all the time in the world.