The students reluctantly disperse, their eyes still flicking toward me with suspicion. I grab a stack of paper towels and start blotting the mess, my hands trembling. The library feels different now, the air thick with an undercurrent of something unseen.
As I work, I can’t shake the feeling of being watched. I glance around, but there’s no sign of the mysterious voice or more stamps floating. Just the usual rows of books and the soft rustle of pages being turned.
Dibella returns with a concerned look. “Did you see anything? Or anyone?”
I shake my head, my mind racing. “No, I just heard the voice. And the stamps—they floated.”
She sighs, rubbing her temples. “We’ll figure this out. For now, let’s get these books dried out as much as possible.”
Dibella hurries toward the back, leaving
