The Lost Library--Ethan

The sun-scorched sands of the desert blistered by day, and I wished for cool winds under the graceful moon. The star-kissed lands of the desert froze by night, and I wished for warm mercy under the noble sun. Yet I bore the journey through inhospitable wastes, out of necessity. Miasma had gripped my home and crushed it in its shadowed fist, before being carried by hellmouth’s breath to cover the world. No bazaar’s merchant or madrasa’s wiseman knew of a cure. In search of a panacea, I travelled to this very hellmouth, a gaping wound in the earth, where in its maw it had uncovered the lost library from under the sands, grand and glistening in ancient glory under dawn’s early sunrise. Though only a single tower was visible, or even accessible, worldly wisdom radiated from its contents to repulse the sickening evil emanating from the hellmouth. I set upon the grandiose chamber, in awe of the books, tomes, scrolls, and scriptures housed for millenia within shelves reaching up to ceilings that seemed to rival the heavens. Almost immediately, however, my amazement turned to disappointment when I saw that many of the great works had been ruined, faded, burned, or buried and lost to time forever. I sifted through every one, devastated to see its pages indecipherable. But one scroll, gilded in as much gold as it was covered in dust, had been preserved; the library had succeeded in its purpose. Although the page was yellow with age, it read, in elegant penmanship, with refreshing earnesty that seemed to be rare anymore. When I travelled across the desert again, scroll in hand, I was greeted with a dark and lifeless silhouette of a city’s skyline, and wondered if I was perhaps too late, until the lights turned on.