The Traveller & The Library | January 2026

Read the passage and answer the following questions in whichever way works for you:

1) Who is the traveller?

2) What are they looking for?

3) Why should Emilie be wary of them?

A full moon shone over the ghost-white road, bathing the small town ahead in a cold, pale light. The traveller yanked a frost-coated mantle over their nose and crunched onward, the snow swallowing their leather boots with each step. Tiny pools of flickering amber winked through the quiet night and the traveller, blinking through the icy droplets of snow that had settled on their eyelashes, hoped that one of the candlelit windows belonged to an inn. They tugged down the rough, waxed hood of their well-worn cloak and something gold glinted in the moonlight. To the casual observer it appeared an ordinary ring: a slim, scuffed shank encircled the little finger of their left hand - but the band widened to accommodate a curious motif. The image of a crow was carved into the precious metal; wings spread wide, it clutched a crown smothered in flames triumphantly in its beak. The etching was masterfully rendered, yet the traveller had twisted the band so the sigil was hidden on the inside of their finger.

***

Emilie watched the snow fall over the small town from her window, shaking off a shiver from the draft. Something felt strange this evening. She licked her first and middle finger and snuffed out all of the candles on the windowsill but one, plunging the small chamber into semi-darkness. She carried the long, tallow candle into the hallway, padded down the wooden stairs and along the dark corridor beyond until she arrived at a heavy wooden door. Emilie shone the candlelight over an extravagantly large metal handle with an intricately decorated keyhole and pulled a long, iron key from her skirt pocket. She carefully placed the key into the hole, turned it three times anti-clockwise and the cylinders clicked sharply into place. She slid the key from the lock, placing it faithfully back into her pocket, and shoved the heavy door which swung open with a soft moan. 

The light from her candle barely touched the blackness beyond but Emilie didn’t need it. She glided silently through a narrow passageway lined with wooden shelves, deftly side-stepping the occasional shadowy obstacle on the floor. At the end of the aisle, the tall shelves gave way to a circular space dominated by a large oaken desk that occupied the centre of the room. She lifted her candle and cast the weak bubble of light over the surrounding labyrinthine stacks before turning her attention to the desk. On it were several carefully stacked piles of papers, a fat, half-burned candle which had dripped yellow tallow over the dark green leather inlay, and a small metal box. Emilie stretched a hand to the box and ran a finger along its lid. The design carved onto the surface had been worn smooth over time, now barely visible by candlelight, but she could still feel the wings stretching outwards, the tips of their feathers grazing the edges of the cool silver container.

Another shiver traced down her spine. 

Whatever was coming, she had to protect the library.