The library was drenched in gold.
Sunlight poured through the tall arched windows, spilling over the marble floors and the shelves lined with ancient tomes. Dust drifted lazily in the air, glimmering like faint spirits between the beams of light. The scent of aged parchment and cedar wood wrapped around Amara like a quiet lullaby.
She sat at one of the long oak tables, her chin resting upon her hand, a dozen open books scattered before her. Pages whispered beneath her fingers as she turned them records of art, forgotten myths, stories of angels and kings. Somewhere between curiosity and fatigue, she lost sense of time.
Outside, the sky had turned to fire a sunset bleeding across the horizon, painting the marble walls in hues of orange and crimson. The clock in the hall ticked faintly, its rhythm slow and patient.
Amara blinked, realizing how many hours had slipped away. "I've been reading since morning…" she murmured, rubbing her eyes. "Elyss will scold me for this."
