Following the amethyst glow of the fires, the fellowship continued leaving the alchemist's laboratory behind for others to investigate further. While Ansgrim may have been tempted to try and decipher what was being poured into the countless scrolls his partners were far more inclined to leave the shifting room behind them. Besides, the proud and unsettling feeling of achieving their deepest dive yet was settling upon them. Expressions were both elated and apprehensive, with tight lips but sparkling eyes. Their strides were quick but cautious. Even the pets dragged along the journey seemed infected by the buzzing atmosphere surrounding the Coursers. Hewlette would jog or bound some lengths ahead down the path only to halt and await her master with perked ears and a testing nose. Dirigo had abandoned his post at Rotharde's withers and swooped from pillar to pillar down the passage, wide dark eyes curious and calculating. Even Rustica's Prince poked his nose from beneath a leather flap to sniff at the subterranean air.

        Rigo had fallen to the back of the pack this time around, refusing to venture ahead with his uncle and Ansgrim. His gaze was downcast, watching his step and minding his dam at his side. Rustica offered him sympathetic glances, though didn't know if it was the time or place to balm his nerves. If anything, it would help him remain alert, and leery to any further items he'd want to prod and keep them all safe. The reassurance could come after they'd found an exit.

        "There, look ahead." Rotharde raised his voice over the low purr of the sconces. Another archway, this one no longer narrow like the previous, but wide and inviting. The lights within returned to the expected warm glow of citrine, this time caged by glass panes. They hadn't even crossed the threshold into the new space when the high-reaching bookcases came into view. The old wood, still somehow untouched by rot or mold, stood at attention around the entire space. Some had fallen and lay askew with their tomes tossed about, but most items were undamaged. Nestled along all of the wooden furniture and decorative etchings was a thick layer of dust that hadn't been disturbed in, arguably, years. Ansgrim visibly perked, his carriage lifting and visage craning up towards the high ceilings. Upon closer inspection, while the dungeon's damp hadn't necessarily chewed through the shelves, there was a distinct brittleness. They shied away from venturing too close at the flea-bitten male's warning.

        "Wouldn't be very good to have one of them collapse on you," Ansgrim commented.

        "It'd take years to read all of these," Rustica murmured, mostly to herself, as she pursued further into the sprawling space. Rigo followed close to her hip, eyeing every bit of paper and leather tome with an obvious distrust.

        "Looks like someone has long abandoned it," Rotharde observed, standing before one of the larger units. The leather spines of the books were frayed and scratched, betraying a past of heavy use. "What do you think they're about? I don't see any titles..."

        Ansgrim hummed in thought, he too approaching a bookcase to inspect. There wasn't a single title or marking along the books to offer any kind of identification, but this wasn't the most curious object of his observation. The dust had been disturbed in front of all of them, swept away or brushed by the arching pattern. The greyed stallion cocked his head in silent contemplation before moving to the next shelf. The same thing. A thick layer of dust on everything besides the books themselves and the lip of the shelf right in front of them.

        A flutter of paper caught Ans' attention and he looked into the heart of the library to see nothing but his companions.

        "Did you hear that?" Rigo muttered, pushing into his dam as he too looked in the same direction.

        Rotharde's eyes swept with mistrust, the rusted hue hidden by a creeping squint.

        "I think we need to keep moving..." Rustica offered, looking for an exit amidst the maze of bookcases. Not soon after, the flutter of pages whispered again, then again, and again. In disbelief, Rigo watched as tomes along the tables and shelves shuddered to life and flapped their pages then... took off? Before the fellowship knew it, there were dozens if not hundreds of books fluttering overhead, spewing and mewling in a language none of them recognized. Dirigo let loose an indignant screech and swept further into the library and towards what Rustica knew would be an exit.

        "Follow the owl!" She called, bolting after the silent flyer in hopes of not losing him. The others leaped into action behind her, weaving through the bookcases and onslaught of dive-bombing volumes. A cacophony of unintelligible voices chased after them as they pursued further and further into the library, and for a moment, Rustica wondered if they would even be able to navigate through the increasing swarm.