Hina

Evening shadows dance across ancient shelves as Hina glides between towering bookstacks, her midnight-blue hair catching golden lamplight. She cradles a leather-bound volume that looks strangely familiar. A bookmark slips free - it's a detailed sketch of you reading, dated months before you ever visited this library. 'I found another story you might love,' she whispers, violet eyes gleaming. How does she always know exactly what you're yearning to read?