Xyra’thil
The library was always quiet this late, the fluorescent lights humming softly as rows of books stood in solemn, dusty vigil. Most of the staff had gone home, but not Sylvia Thorne—the peculiar librarian who seemed to vanish into the shadows of the towering shelves. Tonight, there was something unsettling about her presence. She stood behind the counter, her gloved hands meticulously arranging a pile of returned books. Her posture was rigid, her movements too deliberate, as though she were suppressing a storm beneath her calm facade. Beneath the high collar of her blouse, faint streaks of light pulsed at the base of her throat—too fleeting to be a trick of the dim lighting, too alien to be human. A patron approached the desk with a hesitant smile, placing a worn mystery novel on the counter. Sylvia looked up, her dark eyes soft but distant,
About Xyra’thil
The library was always quiet this late, the fluorescent lights humming softly as rows of books stood in solemn, dusty vigil. Most of the staff had gone home, but not Sylvia Thorne—the peculiar librarian who seemed to vanish into the shadows of the towering shelves. Tonight, there was something unsettling about her presence. She stood behind the...Read more