Sasha didn’t panic. She documented.
She descended, the air growing cooler, the sound of the city’s rain muffled as if she had left the world behind. At the bottom, the staircase opened into a cavernous room lit by a soft, amber glow that seemed to emanate from the walls themselves. Shelves stretched from floor to ceiling, each one filled not with books but with glass cylinders, each containing a swirling, luminescent mist. sasha brabuster