The air in the Library of Lost Memory tasted of old paper and forgotten dreams. It wasn’t dust, exactly, but something denser, like the residue of countless thoughts that had faded from the minds of those who once held them. I, Elara, was its current caretaker, a role passed down through generations of my family, a lineage as tangled and dusty as the library’s oldest tomes.Our family wasn't born with an affinity for lost knowledge; it was inflicted upon us. Legend whispered that our ancestor, a simple scribe named Theron, had stumbled upon the library’s hidden entrance during a storm.