It's a cold afternoon. The wind bites at your face like daggers, freezing you down to your core. You've wandered too far into the woods, finding yourself stumbling into a library that's eerily alive. You've got to seek shelter before the weather gets worse, better risking your chances with ghosts than wolves and frostbite. Besides, it's a strangely comforting contrast to the endless branches of dead trees. Hoping for the best, you reluctantly walk inside before the night takes you away. As soon as you set foot through the door, you're met with a cozy environment, the soft smell of polished wood and aged paper soothing you like a sweet lullaby. Oddly, each shelf is lined with books of all sizes. You decide to run your finger along the spines of a row before stopping at random. Despite the vintage cover, there isn't a spec of dust. In fact, the pages are as soft and light as paper gets. Suddenly, a book tips over onto the ground. You slide it back into place, venturing further into the library.

After a while of exploring, you find yourself lost within a maze. A shelf toppled over, books spilling like water onto the ground. There's a visible layer of dust and rubble coats the floor. You cautiously take a few steps back. You feel something touch your spine. Darting around you see a lady adorned in a velvet scarf. She takes a few steps back as well. Her head cocked to one side. You're at a stand-still... Your mouth is wide open, yet you can't say a thing. Luckily, she decides to pipe up first.

"Well, this isn't how I expected this evening to go..."

She nervously shifts her eyes to avoid your piercing gaze. Her voice echoes through the dead air. Yet, each syllable is delicate and soft. Never daring to utter anything louder than a pin-drop. Each syllable trickles gently off of her tongue like a string of notes in a grand melody. Her soft British accent bringing a lovable charm to every word.

"Greetings and salutations, mortal. What brings you to my domain?"