That was the crest of the "Blackwood Library," a place people in town stopped talking about forty years ago. They said the library didn't burn down; they said the ground simply decided it didn't want the building there anymore and swallowed it whole.
The rain didn't just fall in Oakhaven; it claimed the town. Catelynn sat on the edge of her bed, watching the droplets race down the glass like they were late for something important. In her hand, she gripped a heavy brass key—one she’d found tucked inside the lining of her grandfather’s old leather satchel. It didn't belong to any door in her house. It didn't belong to the gate at the cemetery. Catelynn
Catelynn took a breath, stepped onto the first stair, and the door above her clicked shut. She wasn't in Oakhaven anymore. She was in the , and she was the first person to hold a library card there in half a century. How should we continue Catelynn's journey? If you'd like, we can: That was the crest of the "Blackwood Library,"