The academy was quieter than usual when Lira returned. Evening light stretched long across the courtyards, tinting the stone walls with warm gold. Students hurried to finish their lessons or drifted toward the dining hall, their chatter echoing faintly down the polished corridors. But Lira didn't stop to rest or join them—her mind was fixed on what Serelyth had said.
The library loomed at the far end of the west wing, a grand arched chamber with heavy oak doors bound in iron. She pushed them open carefully, and the familiar scent of parchment, leather, and ink wrapped around her like an embrace. Tall shelves stretched upward like pillars of a wooden forest, their ladders leaning against rows that reached nearly to the vaulted ceiling. Lanterns glowed with soft mage-light, giving the place an otherworldly calm.
