“Don’t move, Sienna. The walls are listening.”
Her breath hitched. The whisper came from somewhere behind the stacks , a man’s voice, rough and low, fading as though swallowed by stone. The candle in her hand sputtered, casting shadows that clawed their way up the cracked marble columns of the Moon Citadel library.
“I said, don’t, move.”
“I wasn’t planning to,” she murmured, though her fingers trembled as they gripped the bronze holder tighter.
The air was thick with dust, carrying the scent of wax and ancient ink. Scrolls lay like corpses on the shelves, bound by lunar seals that pulsed faintly, silver against black parchment. The entire room felt alive , as if every piece of knowledge it guarded had a heartbeat.
Sienna tilted her chin toward the sound but saw only the heavy curtains
