The Infernal Archives – A Library of Ash & Shadowed Flames "A colossal library stands alone in a land of molten rivers and blackened stone, its spires reaching toward a sky choked with swirling ash. The air is thick with the acrid scent of burning parchment, and the only sounds are the distant groans of shifting rock and the crackling of embers that drift lazily through the suffocating gloom. The entrance is marked by two massive obsidian doors, their surfaces carved with arcane runes that flicker with dying red light. Inside, endless rows of towering bookshelves stretch into the darkness, their wood scorched and cracked. Ancient tomes hover in the air, their pages turning on their own, ink bleeding across their covers like living veins. Some books weep molten gold, others whisper forbidden knowledge in low, hissing tones. Chandeliers of rusted iron hang from the high ceiling, their chains rattling with unseen movement. Instead of candles, each fixture holds a captured wraith—pale, tormented figures flickering like dying flames, their mournful wails merging with the echo of the wind outside. A great abyss splits the library in two, its depths alight with shifting magma, and only a narrow stone bridge—cracked and crumbling—connects both sides. Floating above the chasm, a massive tome bound in iron chains pulsates like a living heart, exuding waves of dark energy that distort the air around it. Legends say the library’s last guardian still lingers in the shadows, its skeletal form wrapped in the remnants of a tattered mage’s robe. It watches, waiting, ensuring that those who enter never leave unless they, too, become part of the archives—bound forever within the burning pages