Madam, whilst prowling the perimeter of the property, I noticed a guest has strayed

from the path and fallen to an open grave. He seems fresh, but dead as I'm not very hungry,

so...

He's fallen into a grave. We've not planned for him.

No! Just lucky, I presume.

Not so lucky for us, Mr. Darling. If it's not his time, he'll only be dead for a day or so,

and then he'll come back to life and report the happening and anything else he's discovered

in town.

Just let me have a little stiff around, Madam. Believe it or not, I knew it trickle, too.

Welcome, welcome, everyone. Wonderful to see you. Please come in. Please fill the remaining seats,

and anyone without a chair may take a seat on the floor by either of the fireplaces, as long as

you're not too close to me. That is not a bare-skinned rug. No, but it, too, is safe to sit upon,

we believe. I am your mistress of the Midnight Library, Miranda Merrick.

On your way in through the woods onto the surrounding grounds, you no doubt took notice of our

beautiful graves, even the ones inside our rambling graveyard, which now somehow has tentacles

reaching far into the woods. Some of the lovely old heads-done engravings have sadly

faded away with a persistent wearing of time, and sandpaper that somehow always catches on them

when it gets away from the workshop.

A few of the engravings are in some sort of forgotten language it seems. Some are in Elder Futhark.

The members in the graves are from generations of my family, Mr. Darling's family, too,

and some beloved staff and their families. Some are unknown persons, and some are secret persons.

Every family has their secrets, right? I'm well aware of the rumor and the village that some of

...