It is late in the evening on a calm, dark night. You’re curled up at home in your favorite chair, lost in a book you recently checked out from the library. The story is good, but the words on the page begin to blur as your eyelids grow increasingly heavy. The soft sounds of your house at night provide a quiet soundtrack as you drift off to sleep.

Seemingly moments later, you startle awake. As your awareness shifts into focus, you realize that you are somehow seated on the floor in the West Reading Room of Prescott Public Library. It is very dimly lit, with only the circles of light from a smattering of safety lights fighting off the shadows. The large bay of windows in front of you frames a darkened silhouette of Thumb Butte and an array of stars sparkling above. The library is utterly silent, except the soft whir of fans, and you realize that you are completely alone. In a mild panic, you bolt upright, causing the book you were reading to tumble to the floor. You whip around to look at the clock on the wall and see that it is somehow midnight. Confused, you glance down at the book, now laying at your feet. A note is sticking out of the pages. You pull out the note and read.