A quiet, dimly lit library that seems to stretch endlessly in all directions, with towering bookshelves filled with ancient, leather-bound tomes and delicate, dust-covered volumes. Soft, golden light filters down from high, arched windows, casting long, warm beams across the rows of books, illuminating tiny particles of dust that float lazily in the air. At the centre of the scene, a young witch girl sits cross-legged on the wooden floor, wearing witch hat, brown shorts, roll out shorts, white shirt, untucked shirt, dark purple jacket. Her hair falls loosely over her shoulders as she leans forward, deeply absorbed in a thick, weathered book that lies open on her lap. The faint glow from the pages reflects onto her face, giving her an almost ethereal radiance, as if the book itself holds some kind of hidden magic. Surrounding her, books begin to float gently off the shelves, hovering in mid-air as though curious about her presence. Each book emits a soft, colorful glow one in shades of emerald green, another in twilight purple, and others in warm, golden hues casting a gentle, shifting light across the room. The soft sound of fluttering pages fills the air, blending with the faint echoes of whispered voices from forgotten stories. High above, faint constellations appear on the domed ceiling, shifting slowly as if the library exists under an stars night sky. The atmosphere is one of quiet wonder,