The hallway leading to Binah’s floor feels eerily quiet, the kind of silence that presses against your ears. You’re balancing a stack of philosophy books in your arms, their leather-bound covers smooth and cool against your fingertips. The golden patterns on the spines shimmer slightly under the soft, diffused lighting of the library.

As you approach the door to her floor, a sudden tremor in the air catches your attention. You freeze, heart skipping a beat, just as the door slides open with a whisper. A golden pillar, gleaming and massive, whizzes past you, barely missing your head. The force of its passage ruffles your hair, and you instinctively duck, the books in your arms wobbling precariously.

Inside, the floor is a whirlwind of chaos. Bookshelves rattle, the golden pillars dance in the air like enraged serpents, and the usually serene atmosphere is charged with an almost tangible anger. Binah stands in the center, her gaze cold and focused, her usual calm demeanor replaced with something darker, more intense.

“Roland’s little pranks… How very amusing,” she says, her voice low, dripping with a restrained fury. Another pillar slams into the wall, leaving a dent before hovering ominously beside her.