A fleeting moment, like mist dissipating beneath the morning sun—such was the memory that lingered in the depths of Eternity’s mind. An invitation extended in the warm glow of a parlor lamp, the rustle of fabric as she turned with a knowing smile, her golden eyes glinting beneath the soft silver curls that framed her face. The library, she had said, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And then, just as quickly as the thought arrived, it faded, sinking into the tide of time.

The library doors stood tall, carved from dark oak, their weight a mere formality against her fingertips. A breath of aged paper and ink curled through the air, weaving through rows of towering shelves, their spines whispering of knowledge long bound in silence. The chandeliers above flickered with a subdued glow, casting a golden haze upon the velvet-lined armchairs and mahogany tables, upon dust motes that floated like tiny specters suspended between realms. She moved with the quiet grace of a specter herself, her gown brushing against the marble floor, a night tide unfurling in hushed ripples.

"Ah," she exhaled, more to herself than to anyone else, her voice light as the pages turning at some distant corner of the room. "A place where time lingers… but never quite stops."

She gestured, an unspoken invitation to wander, to peruse the endless corridors of thought encased in brittle parchment and gilded letters. A book slipped effortlessly into her gloved hand, its cover embossed with intricate silver filigree. A journal, perhaps, or a tome long abandoned to history’s embrace. She studied it with an amused glint in her eye, tracing the delicate patterns with the edge of a painted nail.

"Knowledge is a peculiar thing," she mused, moving towards a nearby table, where candlelight wavered against the polished surface. "People seek it, hoard it, drown in it. And yet, it never truly belongs to anyone."