No one had yet lost their surprise when Circe returned and transformed, equally as violently, back into her usual self. Before anyone could ask her any questions, she issued the success of her scouting to the others, pointing out a place just between two particularly pointed mountaintops. She then immediately sat down and commanded Acadian to get a move on.

Within a couple of hours, they managed to steer their cart through the trees and up the steep hillsides in the direction Circe had indicated. Things felt darker here - colder. There was a vast expanse of land between Ailaydan and Hirondale with no towns or villages, except for Konne, but no one was still there. The mountains and Konne Valley were all there was. So far from everything, the sounds of unbothered nature surrounded them.

Birds flittered about, singing high-pitched songs to the travelers. Soft mosses and damp earth made for quiet traversal, amplifying the dusting of wind through the trees and the trickle of water from the streams that spilled down the mountain. Occasionally, a deer or a squirrel of abnormal size would flee from them, but they were otherwise nestled in the solitude of the forest.

Some of the group had begun asking Circe if she was certain of her way. She was getting quite annoyed with them when Gostor began shouting, “Rock, rock!”

Between the trees, they could see the tower reaching through the hole in the ground. It seemed more narrow than what could reasonably house a dragon, but what right had they to say how big the ancient Kienivaris ought to be?

Acadian tied the horse to a nearby tree and gave it a sturdy pat before joining the others at the edge of the crater. They all gazed down into the sloped border that led to the front steps at the bottom. Gostor was the first to slide down, followed quickly by Flynn. Frank’s tattoos glowed white as he stepped off the side and began to slowly fall, like a leaf descending from a tree branch. Circe and Arsa came down as well, leaving Acadian by himself. He grabbed his crossbow and notched an arrow in it.

“Invenonis,” he whispered. He felt the hairs on the back of his neck tingle and his trigger finger quivered. The dragon was close. This was the place. He slid down the slope to join the others before the massive pillars guarding the door.

“Ready yerselves, and do as I say,” Acadian said, eyes fixed on the large doors. “If I say run, you run. If I say leave me, you leave. Y’all aren’t dyin’ for this.” They all looked at him with trepidation. Something in Acadian had become severe in the past days. Arsa, who had been traveling with him the longest, saw his self-sacrificing nature before, but never like this.

Flynn and Frank flanked either door and placed their hands steadily upon them. Acadian counted down with his fingers, prompting them to push open the heavy doors with a slow and determined force. The other four rushed inside, weapons at the ready.

At once, it was clear that the space was larger on the inside. Much, much larger. It was an enchantment that many mages could pull off, but one that took quite a while to master without mishap. The area was dark, the daylight from the outside pouring in as a column from the space between the doors. Acadian, Arsa, and Circe’s eyes all adjusted quickly - being elves and all. The chamber, revealed to them in a monochromatic film, was filled with rows upon rows of bookshelves that scaled from ceiling to floor. The floor was an intricately designed weave of marble and stone that traced into ornate patterns. Along the shelves were various rolling ladders for reaching books on the highest shelves. Down the chamber were walkways reachable by red carpeted marble staircases with hallways intervening every so often.

The library extended farther than their eyes could see, at least in the dark. A pitch-black void of shadow obscured what lay just out of their sight. The group slowly stepped further into the hall, careful not to make any noise. When Frank and Flynn ran in to join them, the silence was immediately broken by the echoing clanging of the resident knight’s heavy metal armor. The doors behind them began to swing shut with a heavy crash, leaving them in complete darkness.

As soon as the reverberations of the doors had ceased, chandeliers that hung from the curved ceiling began to light with a pure white flame, illuminating the space. The light allowed them to see more clearly the magnitude of the space, and the thousands and thousands of books that filled it. Even now, they could not fully make out the end of the chamber as it was so far away.

Before they could fully take in the lit area, the echo of footsteps down one of the halls drew their eyes. They aimed their weapons and readied their magic as a long shadow began to hurry its way out of the corridor. The shadow grew smaller as a small boy stepped out with a flushed face of fear.

The boy was young, no more than his early twenties at the oldest. He had a mess of mousy brown hair atop his head and thin round spectacles over his freckled nose. The blue and golden robes tied around his torso looked more elegant than the human boy who wore them. When he saw the arrows and spells pointed toward him, he raised his hands in surrender.

“P-please,” he squeaked. He looked as though he were about to cry. “Don’t s-s-shoot me.”

Acadian kept his crossbow aimed neatly at the man’s throat, “Where’s your master, Drudge.” That was a term Dragons often used for their mortal servants, whom they would keep as pets to do their more monotonous tasks.

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The boy looked around, “D-drudge? No, I think t-there’s been a misunderstanding.” He took a step forward, but the re-aiming of their weapons convinced him to stay where he was. “I’m not a Drudge. I live here in the Halls with…”

Arsa released an arrow before he could finish his sentence. It flew exactly where he aimed - just by the boy’s cheek and into the bookshelf behind him. The stranger’s breathing quickened and his legs began to shake. He looked as though he wanted to say something, but fear clogged his throat. Circe was the first to lower her magically charged hands.

“This man is innocent,” she said. “There is no need to torment him.”

Acadian held fast, “There is a dragon here. Where is she?” He was shouting. His voice echoed down the hall, reverberating back to them. The repeated sound of his shouts was accompanied by something else that was far heavier than an echo. The ground began to shake with a rhythmic thumping that sounded like waves of thunder. Without falling, the boy held onto the nearest wall and looked down the corridor.

From the maze of bookshelves came a long, outstretched neck that held aloft the snouted head of an alabaster-colored dragon. Long horns curved out of the back of its head and rounded beside its eyes. The tan, stony color of its scales speckled down its wrinkled arms. Its body was mostly obscured by blue and golden robes, similar to that of the boy. The tail of the beast was long and flicked upward, avoiding the bookshelves as it stormed closer and closer to the group. Acadian readied his crossbow, aiming straight for the softer underbelly of the monster when he noticed the milky white eyes and small rounded glasses before them.

The rest of the group, save for Acadian and Arsa, gazed up at the creature with fearful awe. They both cocked their heads in the same direction, puzzled at the human qualities worn by the beast in front of them. Frank was shuffling back to the doors while Flynn and Gostor both dropped their weapons in amazement (none of them had ever seen a dragon before). Circe slinked off to the side of the library, not wanting to be caught underfoot should the beast come any closer.

The dragon paused and lowered its head near to the ground. It swiveled from side to side, the white eyes glinting with the white fire overhead. A blue tongue forked through its lips as it slowly began to open its mouth. Acadian grabbed Arsa and shoved the both of them off to the side. He began shouting for Gostor and Flynn to run from the breath attack, but they stood their ground.

“Seamus,” a creaky voice called. “Seamus, dearie, where are you?” The dragon’s high-pitched calls took them all by surprise.

Seamus, as he had come to be called, stumbled away from the wall and stood before the dragon. “Just here, Miss Keena,” he responded, glancing carefully at the others around him.

Kienivaris turned her head in his direction, still not looking directly at him. “Oh good, good,” she said, her snout turning upward into a smile. “I thought I had heard something and worried you had fallen off of the ladders again.”

He blushed, “N-no, Miss Keena. It’s just that…”

“What was that, dearie?” she interrupted.

“It’s just that we have some visitors,” he continued, but much louder. Her head swung quickly now, her vacant eyes seeming to light up.

“Visitors?” she said excitedly. “My, my. It has been so long since I’ve had visitors. Not since you were a babe, dear Seamus. Come closer, friends, I can’t find where you are.”

They were all stunned. Of all the terrible tales of dragons that flooded the realms, all the horror stories of their destructive nature - they had never fathomed one being so grandmotherly. They hesitated, seeming to wait on Acadian for some sort of command. His chest rose and fell sharply with staggered, confused breaths.

“We’re here for Besior’s Spellbook, beast,” he shouted. “Take us to yer hoard or…”

“Or help us to find it,” Arsa cut him off before he could make a threat. Acadian looked at him with a look of offense and fear. The dragon lowered her head in the pair’s direction and smiled again, more gently this time.

“Please, call me Keena,” she said. “All my friends do.”

Flynn had snapped out of his shock, “You have friends?”

“Indeed!” she squeaked. “You’re here now, aren’t you?” They all looked at one another as Keena turned and began walking down the corridor. Arsa gave a fast motion to follow as he started after her.

Her padded hands thudded loudly as she stomped around bookshelves, following a path in the maze that she seemed to know very well. They passed by what must have been centuries worth of literature and journals stocked on the shelves. Eventually, Keena stopped in a cubical within the shelves where a large stone podium sat in the center. Atop the podium was a thick book, sized perfectly for the giant paws of a dragon.

Keena waved a finger through the air and the book opened. The pages flipped quickly, magic words and shapes floating off the pages before evaporating in the air. Without warning, Keena snapped her finger onto a page.

“Ah,” she sighed. “Besior’s Spellbook, entrusted to me by Besior himself. Haven’t seen him in ages. I hope he’s doing well. Anyway, of course, you may check out the book.”

More silence followed. It couldn’t be this easy, could it?

“Where can we find it?” Frank asked. “This place is huge.”

She lowered her face in Frank’s direction and smiled again, revealing her maw of softened teeth. “Don’t worry, dearie. It will find you.”

Keena then trodded out of the cubical and into the library. Before the group could follow her out, the bookshelves began to quake. They moved across the floor, some lowering into the ground. Following the latticework of the marble, the shelves rearranged themselves around the group, blocking them into a tight space around the podium.

No, it could not be that easy.