There it was again. She paused, quill poised mid-air and cocked her head to listen. This place definitely had its charms and playing with sound was one of them. Maggy held her breath and waited. Silence. It had sounded like murmuring but you could never tell down here. She shrugged and went back to writing. It was inane things that sometimes calmed her, like the stiff quill scratching along the rough parchment and the dull scraping sound it made. She liked how she could feel the paper through the pen. Thud! The sound was swallowed by the massive room and now she was curious. Rising calmly and carefully so as not to make noise, Maggy slowly crept towards the northern stacks. As she moved away from the the small glow of the candles on the table, it became increasingly darker -- darker than what it should be, as if something were absorbing any available light in the room. Now in pitch blackness, she stretched out a hand feeling for the cold stone of the wall and collided with a shelf. Soft, rolled vellum rained down on her head hitting the floor and bouncing away. Ok, at least I know I'm by the maps. Maggy cupped her hands and whispered the words for light. A small blue flame appeared and danced within its cage of fingers. Swearing lightly she dimmed it. As puny as the flame was, in this inky blackness she might as well have lit a bonfire. Why the need to sneak around anyway? She tried quieting that thought but her skin responded by breaking out in goosebumps anyway. She shuddered. Cautiously, Maggy continued down the aisle peering into the next one and then slipping into that row. Whoever or whatever it was, appeared to be in the last line of bookcases against the wall. Curling, snakey tendrils of smoke drifted over the stacks and an odd glow made shadows twist against the far wall. Her heart pounded in her ears and her skin crawled as she crept ever closer. Finally, she was one row from the source of the smoke and light.