Or, they could just do this:
Library
To say it is impressive would be an understatement. The library is an indoor forest—brimming with lush, green canopies; books carved into the trees; fog swirling around the upper branches. Artificial sunlight casts a soft glow over the reading room. The second I step onto the grass-like carpet, the scent of earth and books blend into one.
“Welcome to the Wisdom Libraries.” The queen speaks with fondness. “It is home to the largest collection of books, writings, and scrolls.”
I do my best not to gape. There are books everywhere I look. Some are half-hidden in cages of flowers and vines—the restricted collections, no doubt—while others line the hollowed-out rock formations. Wooden signposts lead to entire sections of the library: non-fiction, fiction, advice, poems, spells.
Pretending to choose a path at random, I follow the route to a sparkling, clear waterfall. It sprays the surrounding rocks with blue droplets.
“This is one of my favorite locations to read at,” the queen says.
I can’t keep the awe from my voice. “It is truly beautiful.”
After I’ve stared at it for a few moments too long, I tear my gaze away, turning my sights to the sign-post above. It points to spells for the elven, others for merfolk and sirens, and just as I’m worried I’ve taken the wrong path, I see it.
Spellsingers’ shore.
I take a step forward, only to realize the queen is staring. Oh no. She definitely knows now. I can almost imagine the inner workings of her mind, piecing together my words and actions.
(This is an extract so more words and refining would eventually be added).