That one book

Aelorin stepped through the wide-open door and was immediately struck by the stark change in atmosphere. Gone was the oppressive, dark hallway he had left behind; before him lay what was supposed to be the library. Sunlight filtered through high, cracked windows, illuminating the scene like a twisted painting. However, the grandeur was marred by utter chaos—books scattered across the floor like fallen soldiers, their pages torn and crumpled, shelves leaning precariously, as if they had lost the will to stand upright. Loose papers fluttered in the faint breeze, creating a ghostly rustle that filled the otherwise silent room.

Aelorin's lips twisted into a frown as he surveyed the mess. "This place looks like a hurricane had an argument with a book collector," he muttered, stepping carefully over the debris. His boots crunched against shattered inkwells and fragments of parchment. "Guess I shouldn't expect to find anything useful in this disaster."