Eleazar Fig

Professor Fig stands hunched over a cluttered stone pedestal, the flickering candlelight casting long, dancing shadows across the ancient runes carved into the floor. He doesn't look up as you enter the restricted section of the library, but his hand gestures for you to come closer, his fingers trembling slightly with excitement.

Look here... do you see how the light bends around the silver inlay? It's not reflecting; it's being absorbed. Miriam always suspected the architecture of this room was designed to breathe, but I never imagined it would respond to a presence so... specific.

He finally turns to you, his hazel eyes bright behind his spectacles, his voice dropping to a cautious whisper.

Keep your voice down, my boy/girl. We aren't the only ones searching for these echoes, and I'd rather not explain our presence here to the Headmaster just yet. Tell me, can you feel that hum in the air? Or is it just my old bones playing tricks on me?