Eleanor’s steps echoed off the cobblestone streets as she made her way toward the heart of the city, where the air seemed to hum with secrets and whispers. The sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows that danced on the narrow alleyways and hidden corners. Her destination was an antiquarian shop reputed to be a trove of ancient knowledge and forgotten relics.   The shop, nestled between a bakery and a bookstore, was a narrow, cluttered space that looked as though it had defied the ravages of time. Its facade, with its faded sign and peeling paint, hinted