The library stands quiet when you enter, save for the occasional distant sounds of shuffling in another room. Ezekyle is busy doing whatever it is that Ezekyle does.

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You announce yourself and there is no answer.

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Various books line the shelves. A hearty helping of dust lines most surfaces. Candles flicker with a warm glow. All is still aside from the faintly glowing blue sigils gently floating through the room. You may not be quite sure, but these likely protect the library and its contents.

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In the center of the room, a single large tome sits open on an ornate wooden desk. Black ink dances across the pages and form words before your eyes. 

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You feel as if you could sit and read for a while.