The library was a large room, shaped as a perfect octagon. On every side, wooden shelves rose from the polished floor to the high, vaulted ceiling. The wood was dark, almost black, and carved with patterns of winding roots and spreading branches. There were no windows. Light came from orbs of soft, white crystal that floated just below the ceiling, giving the room a steady, shadowless glow.
The air smelled of old paper, dry leather, and a sweet floral scent. Three elven girls sat at different tables in the room.
In the far corner, near a shelf of historical scrolls, was Lirael. She was twenty-five years old, with long blonde hair tied back in a simple leather clasp. She read a book bound in dark green leather. The title read: The Lunar Compact: A Treatise On Werewolf Territory and Law. She traced a line of text with her finger. The book discussed the hierarchy of werewolf packs and their strange, rigid honor codes.
