The air in the library was suffocating and I all I could smell were the old books Rachel had managed to source. Rachel and I had spent hours combing through every tome, scroll, and scrap of parchment we could find, searching for something—anything—that might help wake Gilly from her coma.

“Anything yet?” I asked tiredly.

Rachel didn’t look up, her fingers just kept flipping through the brittle pages of an ancient book. “Nothing,” she muttered with her frustration evident.

I sighed, leaning back in my chair and rubbing my temples. The silence of the library, which was usually comforting, now felt oppressive.

“Keep looking,” I said, though my words felt...