POV Jessie Walker
The Diamond Moon library was not merely a room; it was a cathedral of forgotten thought. Situated in the sub-level of the pack house, it remained several degrees cooler than the rest of the building, the air thick with the heavy, intoxicating scent of the past. As Jessie and Gemma pushed open the iron-filigree doors, they were met with the immediate aroma of vanilla, almond, and decay—the unmistakable perfume of aging lignin in centuries-old paper.
"It feels like the books are breathing in here," Gemma whispered, her voice barely a ripple in the absolute silence of the archives.
Jessie nodded, his hand reaching for the brushed-steel dimmer switch on the wall. He gave it a slow turn, and a series of recessed LED spotlights hummed to life, casting a warm, targeted glow
