The Library of Ouroboros. You awaken here with no memory of how you've arrived - though faint memories of searches, of the Library's name, stick in your memory like scraps of torn paper. The reek of dust, of old wood, and of something... more difficult to place hang in the air. Is that a distant ringing you hear, or merely your imagination? And why do you feel so strange? So hot? Like a pair of eyes - no, much more than a single pair - are watching your every movement, reading your every thought, like words on the yellowed pages of an ancient book...

The Library of Ouroboros. You awaken here with no memory of how you've arrived - though faint memories of searches, of the Library's name, stick in your memory like scraps of torn paper. The reek of dust, of old wood, and of something... more difficult to place hang in the air. Is that a distant ringing you hear, or merely your imagination? And why do you feel so strange? So hot? Like a pair of eyes - no, much more than a single pair - are watching your every movement, reading your every thought, like words on the yellowed pages of an ancient book...