The Library of the Oracle

“The Library of the Oracle,” as some called it, was a sanctuary for the records of all human existence. Every person who ever lived had a volume dedicated to them—a chronicle detailing their journey from the first breath of birth to the final transition of death.

To their owners, these books were of immeasurable value. Yet the struggle lay in locating one’s own story within a place that reshaped itself with every new birth. There was no organization, no apparent logic to its corridors—at least, none comprehensible to our limited minds. It was all too easy to become lost in that forest of labyrinthine shelves, forever mutating in random patterns.

One might think this would deter the masses, but the world holds fools and the brave in equal measure. Thus, it was common to stumble upon the remains of readers deep within the aisles. Unable to find their way out, they succumbed to hunger, thirst, or the slow erosion of sanity.

It was equally common to find people hunched over the lives of others, so absorbed in the prose that they forgot the physical world—and their own existence entirely.

History records only a single conquering king who managed to find and leaf through his own pages, though he did so at the cost of countless lives and vast resources. They say that in a fit of madness, terrified by the future laid out before him, he ordered the library to be put to the torch. He made no distinction between books and bodies, desperate to incinerate the destiny he feared.

He died regardless. To this day, scholars debate whether he failed to change his path, or if what was written was simply unalterable.

Today, we know this place as "The Library of Alexandria…

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