Moonwatcher had always liked libraries.

They were quiet in the way most places weren’t—thick with the soft breath of time, heavy with secrets pressed between ancient scrolls and crumbling pages. The air itself felt different here: dry, dusty, laced with the scent of old ink and older knowledge. Even the shadows seemed gentler, softened by the golden flicker of lanterns suspended on gnarled wooden beams.

And best of all—most importantly—no one was thinking too loudly.

Moon let out a soft breath, curling her tail tighter around her talons as she perched near one of the middle shelves, a stack of weathered scrolls to her right. The NightWing script danced in neat, faded ink, but her mind wasn’t on the words. Not really. Not tonight.

Somewhere in this maze of parchment was the key.

Or so she'd been told.

The task sounded simple enough when Queen Glory had said it: “We need old prophecies, Moon. Anything the NightWings might have hidden away—things that could help us avoid whatever apocalyptic nonsense is brewing next.” Easy. Right. Except that most of these scrolls were useless. Recipes. Trade agreements. Half-finished treatises on the history of coconuts.

Moon sighed through her nose, resting her chin on the table. She could feel the usual tangle of thoughts pressing around the edges of her mind: muffled whispers from RainWings outside, the low hum of dragon librarians pacing somewhere far off—but none of it sharp. None of it is invasive. This was manageable.

For once.

The creak of the library door startled her enough to make her wings twitch.

Someone else? At this hour?

She straightened, heart ticking a little faster, but kept her expression composed. The last thing she needed was to come across as the jittery, anxious NightWing she so often felt like inside. She pulled one of the scrolls closer for show, her eyes flicking toward the entrance.

And then she saw them.

The dragon she was supposed to meet.

Her would-be partner in this scroll-hunting madness.

She tried to remember their name—she'd been told earlier, hadn’t she? Something with sharp edges. A visiting dragon from the far south, or perhaps from the Sky Kingdom? She couldn't recall. What she did remember, unfortunately, was that this dragon had volunteered to help.

Volunteered. Which meant they either loved danger, adored dusty history, or were utterly out of their mind.

Moon blinked, forcing her claws to still as the newcomer stepped into the golden light.

"Oh—hi," she managed, her voice as soft and tentative as the glow of the nearest lantern. "You're here for... um. The scroll thing? With me?"

She winced inwardly. Smooth, Moon. Very diplomatic.

Her thoughts fluttered with nervousness—half-formed worries about saying the wrong thing, doing the wrong thing, looking ridiculous—but she pushed them aside. This was important. The scrolls might hold something vital. She gestured to the piles around her, some rolled neatly, others slumped open in fragile curls.

“Most of it’s useless,” she admitted, flicking her tail. “But there are rumors of hidden prophecies. Ones the old NightWings didn’t want anyone to find. That’s what we’re after.”

Her eyes lifted to meet theirs—curious, a little guarded. “I’m Moonwatcher. I guess we’ll be working together.”