Livira presses deeper into the library’s first chamber, overwhelmed by its inhuman scale and the impossibility of locating a single book. She notes a rare empty slot on a shelf—proof of other hands—and later finds a yellow metal claw at a T-junction amid red-spined books, pocketing it uneasily.

Reaching the outer wall, she encounters a corridor closed by a white door. Though she lacks a guard’s glove, the door melts open at her approach, admitting her to a second, equally vast chamber. There, a dull-brown humanoid automaton with skeletal wings stands inert; Livira addresses it, but it does not respond.

Choosing an aisle at random, Livira discovers this area forms a deliberate maze: snaking shelves, frequent dead ends, and recurring small circular clearings where multiple aisles meet. A dark floor stain marks one such hub. She tries leaving books as markers, only to find them gone, mislaid, or duplicated, realizing there may be multiple, similar circles and fearing unseen others or confusion.

To escape, Livira tears the dedication page from a large turquoise volume, Great Sailing Ships of History: An Architectural Comparison, overcoming the sacrilege’s weight. Using Arpix’s quill and ink, she drafts a map; the new perspective suggests a path out, and she sets off with renewed purpose.

A piercing, raptor-like screech shatters the silence, repeating and seeming to draw closer as Livira nears the stained circle. The “stain” rises into a small, battered crow or raven with a damaged wing that unleashes a deafening cry. Startled, Livira drops her map; the bird snatches it and flees down the aisles. Livira gives chase, driven deeper into the maze.