As the large framed windows glowed in the light of countless lamps, her hood wrapped tightly around her head, she swept past. Taking care to be silent, she moved with a sense of urgency, being careful to stay in the shadows. As the light emanating from the windows caught her face, two hooded eyes and small pursed lips illuminated the face of a middle aged woman, before they were obscured in shadow once more. She quickened her pace, her leather boots uncomfortably tight. That didn’t matter right now. She scanned her surroundings to check no one was watching before she pulled a small silver pocket watch from the folds of her clothes. Her window of time to sneak in was closing rapidly. As she peeked out from behind a large, graffitied wall, she watched as a pair of burly security guards saluted to each other, both with their backs turned. It was now or never.
Tiptoeing up the sandstone steps, the huge decorative pillars loomed in front of her like giants. She glanced up at the huge letters above her head: STATE LIBRARY OF NSW.
She stood there, panting for a moment. Was it really alright to sneak in here? She shook her head, trying to dislodge the thought from her head but a pang had sprung in her chest, like a needle pricking her skin. This is not right, you shouldn’t do it, it reminded her over and over again. A clatter of a foot fall on the stairs shook herself to the present. What was she doing, lingering outside like this? Without hesitating, she slipped through one of the glass doors, silently closing it behind her. There was no turning back now.
The room she had entered felt like it was holding its breath as she took in her surroundings. Here, bitter icy air replaced the crisp cool night breeze. Like the outside, the whole room was held up with towering columns that looked like they were from ancient times. Every footstep she took on the polished marble floor echoed eerily through the labyrinthine corridors of the library. Great stealth, Anglea she scolded herself. No one will know you’re here. Right in front of her, glowing dimly in the street light filtering through the stained glass windows high above her head was an adventurer’s map, created using the same intricate marble. Gazing up at one of the broad sandstone walls surrounding her, something strange caught her eye. She shook her head, making sure she wasn’t seeing things. Letters were gradually carving themselves there, like someone was inflicting them on, one by one. She squinted up, her breath clouding around her as she tried to decipher what was being written. She watched for a while as still more letters were added. As abruptly as it had started, the writing stopped. Her eyes flitted over the lines, trying to make sense of it all. The three same letters had been repeated over and over, making a spooky word art. DSM. DSM. DSM. What could that mean? She wondered, as she scanned around for clues. As she turned, she was engulfed in a mass of swirling white.
She stood there, dazed as swirling flakes danced around her, slowly descending like snow. They seemed to hover around her, as if they were moths drawn to a flame. They seemed almost curious, she thought, as they edged closer before jumping back again. They were wanting… wanting. Realising she was holding her breath, she let it all out in one long whoosh. Immediately, she regretted it. The swirling flakes rushed towards her, flying into her eyes, nose and mouth. “A-a-achoo!” she sneezed, her eyes beginning to water. The swirling mass surrounding her dispersed, before re-joining as a thick cloud, looming down like a swarm of bees, ready to attack. Not knowing where she was going, she fled into the next room, only to smash headlong into a polished oak desk. She looked down, panting, only to find that the desk was occupied.