Tiliana stepped through the twisted driftwood arch and stopped cold. She had come to scout the grove where the text's holder was rumored to hide. Hiding, it turned out, was not the plan. The arch stood tall and unashamed, a front door planted in open ground. Whoever owned the book wanted her to walk right up to it. She followed the path to a willow shrine woven from living branches. A folded note waited on the stone step, pinned beneath a single pink scale. Her name was written on the outside in careful ink. The note was short. "I see you looking, dealer. Come closer if you dare." Above the shrine, a purple and pink dragon uncoiled from the willow boughs. It watched her with bright yellow eyes and did not move to attack. It only waited, as if amused. Tiliana folded the note and slid it into her coat. Her quiet approach was finished. Whoever held the text knew her face, her trade, and her fear. If she wanted the book locked away, she would have to stop watching from the trees and start bargaining in the open.

Tiliana stepped past the willow shrine, ready to bargain. The dragon was gone. Pink scales lay scattered on the stone, still warm. The boughs above hung empty and swaying, as if the creature had launched off in a hurry. She climbed the shrine steps and found the inner alcove bare. No book. No second note. Only a lantern left burning on the altar, its glass swirling with pale wisps of light. Someone had set it there to be found. Where the dragon had coiled, the ground had opened into a shimmering pool. Its waters turned slow circles and showed strange skies inside. Tiliana knelt at the edge. The pool was a door, or a message. The holder had moved the text and wanted her to know it. Her hands shook. She pulled a small mist-carved fountain charm from her coat and set it on the stone. It was a habit object, a thing she consulted when plans broke. The carved figures spun in their vapor and gave her nothing useful. She put it away. She followed a trail of bent grass to a vine-choked mound nearby. A small wooden door was set into its flowers. She knocked once. No answer. She pressed her ear to the wood and heard only wind. Tiliana stood up straight. The shrine was open, the guardian fled, the prize already moved. She had come to negotiate and found an empty stage. Whoever held the book was not testing her anymore. They were running, and she would have to chase.