The library was a quiet place. It lay near the edge of the town, far from the marketplace, so relative quietness is a given. It was a place of quiet, personal learning, so silence was encouraged. It was also the home of a few superstitious rumours, so loud people tended to stay away.

The library was the largest building in the town, standing high above the surrounding trees, a landmark for all to see. It became thinner as it rose up, becoming a mess of flying buttresses and gargoyles the higher one would look, ending in a simple domed top, painted blue as a show of its proximity to the sky.

The interior was much simpler. Wide open rooms filled to the brim with shelves several times taller than the people who frequented the place, most of which were fully occupied by books sitting snugly beside one another. And yet, some shelves lay bare and waiting, begging to be put to use. They stand in the corner of the library, sad and pitiful, so unlike their proud brethren. One would be forgiven to think that, at any moment, they would melt into sorry puddles to be mopped up. But they stood, nevertheless, awaiting their inevitable fate.

This, however, only describes the ground floor. The higher one went, the stranger the library became. The shelves moved ever closer, making it all the more packed, and more easy to lose oneself in the increasingly complex labyrinth of stacked knowledge. The books also reflected the increasing chaos, more vibrant colours, more disturbing topics, more horrendous depictions. As such, the higher one climbs the winding stairs of the library, the fewer people can be found, and the more silent.

This reaches its peak on the 9th floor. The shelves here almost leaned forward, swallowing up all light and sound, and threatening to do the same to anyone who wandered into the eerie maw. The illustrations on the books were monstrous, twisted, otherworldly. Only one person ever braved these corridors of leather bindings and wooden boards. Only one person was curious enough to seek the dangerous knowledge which lies here. Only one has a mind resilient enough to stave off the madness that would come attached to the comprehension of such lunacy. This person secluded themselves here, ever silent, ever reading. Not a soul deemed this person worth their time and this person thought no one worth the effort. This relationship kept this... enigma in solitude.

Then there was the head librarian's room. On the topmost floor lay a room which was well lit by the sun which was allowed in through a wall of windows. With a desk in its centre and a shelf on its right, paired with the chirping of birds, this room was the opposite of what one would expect after passing by the dreadful 9th floor. It was pleasant here.

This pleasantness is the reason that no one would expect to hear the terrified yelp of a young man followed closely by a thud and the sound of frantic crawling before an unnerving return to the pleasant ambience. Had one heard this from outside, they would suspect a foul deed.

This was not the case however, as Grindleby seemed to have just been startled by something... very startled, fallen back in his chair and then crawled into a corner of the room, teeth clattering as though winter had arrived early in the library. Albius approached him slowly with a look of curiosity on his face. “What in the several hells just happened?!”