Elliott's POV
Dawn light filtered through the towering windows of the Grand Library, casting long shadows across the polished marble floors. The ancient building held its breath in reverent silence, disturbed only by the occasional pop of melting candle wax and the soft whisper of old books settling deeper into their shelves.
I stood alone in the forgotten west wing, surrounded by volumes that predated the Academy by centuries. The book in my hands felt fragile, its leather binding cracked with age and its pages yellowed like autumn leaves. My fingers moved carefully across each page, searching for something that might make sense of the mystery consuming my thoughts.
The silence shattered.
