You awaken in silence against ice cold slate. Pillars tower above you like cliffs, and beyond them are corridors, filled with shelves, spanning into distance unknown. You push yourself upright, scraping against the stone, breaking the silence.
The noise dies quickly, swallowed by the tomes, the scrolls, and the corridors housing them. Shelves bore books bound in hide, bark, ferrum, bone. Every medium that could have ever carried meaning was collected and catalogued here.
You descend an aisle, and find it does not end, and never truly began...