Edith and Livia crossed the threshold, and the air changed immediately — not into something cold or oppressive, but into a warm, fragrant breeze, as if someone had opened invisible windows to an eternal garden at dusk.
The library was no longer a labyrinth of shadows and endless shelves. The space opened into a vast, circular hall, with a vaulted glass ceiling that let in a soft, golden light, as if the sun never truly set here. White marble pillars veined with gold rose to the heights, entwined with vines of silver leaves that bloomed with tiny bioluminescent lights in shades of blue and violet. In the center, a shallow lake of crystal-clear water reflected the entire ceiling, creating the illusion that the hall floated between two skies. Small floating islands of polished stone hovered above the water, connected by curved bridges of translucent crystal that changed color as light touched them — from amber to turquoise, from pink to lavender.
Books rested open on ebony pedestals, their pages turning on their own with a gentle whisper, while butterflies of pure light danced among them, leaving trails of sparkling dust that fell slowly like golden snow. The floor was a mosaic of inlaid gemstones — lapis lazuli, malachite, rose quartz, and amethyst — forming geometric patterns that seemed to pulse slowly, as if the place itself were breathing.
At the center of the largest floating island, standing on a circular platform of polished black marble that reflected the light like a dark mirror, was Ophelia Calderwood.
She waited there precisely, her posture tall and still, her deep cyan hair capturing every hue of the light falling from the vaulted ceiling. Silver filigree in her strands shone like threads of moonlight. Her matte black leather corset with steel reinforcements seemed to absorb the light rather than reflect it, creating an elegant contrast with her pearly white skin. The asymmetrical skirt swayed slightly with the invisible breeze that flowed through the hall, revealing her prosthetic leg pulsing with a blue-ice fluid in a calm, hypnotic rhythm. Thin spirals of cold vapor rose from its valves, mingling with the warm, fragrant air like mountain mist.
Her emerald-green eyes, with silver circuits slowly turning within the irises, fixed themselves on the two of them as they appeared.
Ophelia tilted her head slightly — a precise, almost ceremonial gesture — and a cyan lock of hair slid over her shoulder.
— I've been expecting you — she said, her voice low and clear, carrying that slight metallic accent that seemed to come from inside an old music box.
There was no surprise or urgency in her words. Only absolute certainty, as if the very space had decided they would arrive at that exact moment.
She took a step forward, her right boot clicking softly on the mosaic, the prosthetic leg whispering in response.
— Sorry to interrupt the mood that was going on between you… — she said, her voice calm, almost neutral, but with a subtle trace of mischief in her eyes.— Did you know that there is a woman from another reality in this city?