A Week later.
The library was quiet, except for the faint crackle of a lantern and the occasional rustle of turning pages. Rows of ancient books and scrolls towered above Avon and Astrid, the dim light casting their shadows on the stone walls.
They sat opposite each other at a long wooden table, stacks of books between them, their current mission clear which was to uncover more about the defenders who had come before them.
Astrid's black hair seemed brown under the flickering light as her fingers traced the faded ink of a centuries-old manuscript. Her eyes darted over the page, focused and determined, though her gaze flickered up to Avon every now and then. He was slouched in his chair, his blonde hair still damp from his earlier swim. He hummed quietly to himself, a melody that seemed to bubble up from the ocean as he flipped through a particularly dusty book.
