The shard enveloped them, and for a moment, all Zoe could do was stare.
The library seemed endless, a maze of towering shelves stretching into the gloom.
The air was damp, clinging like a wet cloak, while the faint, inconsistent glow of overhead lights cast jagged, shifting shadows that kept Zoe on edge.
Shadows pulsed with an uncanny rhythm, sliding in and out of focus like a predator sizing up its prey.
'Great,' Zoe thought, her lips twitching in a grimace. 'Now even the shadows are dramatic.'
The smell of old paper filled the air, sharp and musty, mingling with the metallic tang Zoe had come to associate with shards.
Somewhere in the labyrinth of bookshelves, the faint sound of pages turning echoed, though no one was there to turn them.
