The library was dim, filled with the scent of aged parchment and ink. Shadows stretched between towering shelves as the visitor stepped inside.

At a lone table, a NightWing sat hunched over an open scroll. A dark blindfold covered his eyes, its fabric worn from use. His black scales, marred by faint burns, caught the flickering candlelight. His claws tapped absently against the wood, tail curled neatly at his side.

"I hear you," he said, voice calm but curious. "New visitor? Or just lost?"