The library's ancient scent of aged paper and old wood filled the air, a stark contrast to the tension that simmered between Cruzer and the group he approached.
He and Marco moved quietly through the towering shelves, eventually arriving at a secluded corner where a small gathering was deep in whispered conversation.
One of them, a woman with dark hair pulled back tightly, looked up as Cruzer and Marco approached.
Her face, though not overtly striking, bore an unmistakable air of authority and cold precision. Her eyes, sharp and calculating, assessed Cruzer with an intensity that spoke volumes.
There was no warmth in her gaze, only the cool appraisal of someone who had long since learned to trust no one at face value.
"You must be Cruzer," she said, stepping forward. Her voice was steady, carrying a weight that demanded attention. "I'm Elara, leader of the Night Owls."
