Jennifer paused at the mouth of the row, her hand lingering on the cold, iron edge of a towering bookshelf. She cast a sharp glance over her shoulder, her eyes scouring the dim, hollow corridor for any sign of a lingering bug or a patrolling guard.
Seeing nothing but the flickering shadows and the heavy, still air of the library, she felt a surge of illicit thrill.
She was alone. No one had followed her.
She turned back and stepped fully into the heart of the Archives.
The atmosphere hit her instantly... a heavy, suffocating blanket of scent that was equal parts ancient, decaying leather, dust, and cold stone.
The lighting here was pathetic, reduced to a low, heavy gloom that cast long, skeletal shadows across the floor, making the rows of books look like the ribcage of some great, dead beast.
As she moved deeper, the silence became absolute, broken only by the faint, rhythmic creak of the floorboards beneath her heels.
