Caspian Tidemark pushed his wheelchair through the murky waters of Cryptidia's outer swamps. His tail flicked behind him, propelling him forward through the thick vegetation. He'd heard rumors of an ancient library hidden somewhere in these marshes—scrolls that hadn't seen sunlight in centuries. The water grew deeper as he navigated between twisted cypress roots. His wheels caught on submerged logs twice before he spotted it—a weathered wooden dock jutting out into the dark water. The planks looked old but solid, their rugged surface worn smooth by time. He wheeled onto the dock and tested its strength. It held. This would be his launch point for reaching the deeper parts of the swamp where the texts waited. He pulled a small boat closer with his tail and transferred himself inside. His wheelchair stayed on the dock—he wouldn't need it in the water. Caspian grabbed the oars and pushed off, his heart beating faster. Each stroke brought him closer to his goal. The ancient texts were out there somewhere, crumbling a little more each day. If he didn't find them soon, they'd be lost forever. He had to preserve them before time did its work. The boat cut through the green water as he rowed deeper into Cryptidia's heart.