I opened my eyes.

The orange glow of gentle candlelight lit my face. Flickering like sunlight through water, dousing the dusty floating motes an orangey hue. Tomes, old and ancient, some beyond repair, others pristine and sparkling. Shelves, glossy as if dusted and shined, but in places irreparable. Ripped books on perfect shelves, perfect books on broken wood.

The contrast was as startling as I found myself.

My awakening was nothing more than the gentle sudden awareness I indeed was awake, and the realization thereafter that I was staring at my eyelids, and of course the implied opening of said eyelids.

And here I was.

I found my arms wrapped around my legs. My legs tucked into my chest. My eyes inspected my frame before I even considered moving. It took a while for my eyes to catch up with my internal perception, and realize I was staring at robes. They itched terribly, and I was acutely aware of the fact I wore nothing under.

I turned my head, staring at my surroundings as if expectant to find something that might indicate exactly where in the world I was.

The thought of returning home triggered an unnerving awareness. It was akin to reaching for something that should've been there, only for its absence to be that much obvious, and worse, not knowing exactly what you were expecting.

I sat there for five minutes more, gleaning nothing of myself save for the fact that it seemed I was particularly methodical. Perhaps well-read given my surroundings, but if nothing else it was the only thing I learned of myself in those five minutes.

My immediate surroundings were, of course, literature. The few books intact were placed in a neat pile to the side, two, in fact, one was much higher than its opposite, with an open book between the two. Had I been reading through these?

Odd, some were pristine, others perpetually covered in dust. The Origin of Skills and Abilities. I flicked through the pages, eyes roaming the text. As it turned out, I could indeed still read.

The book, I can only assume I was in the process of scouring, detailed a function of the world. It was a basic rundown of general knowledge one should already know but chronicled concisely and succinctly, while often delving deeper into theories.

I put the book down and looked through the rest of the pile. Whatever my interests were, I am most definitely eccentric. There was an entire thick compendium of plant-life, and judging from a bookmark delicately placed, I was nearly halfway through it! And another, one titled On the Subject of which was quite literally an encyclopedia of books on particular subjects. It seemed even that I had gathered whatever I had been looking for from it.

While it was true that the fact I was even here most likely meant I was safe, the unknown pressured me to secure myself before delving into any more clues about my past.

The second I moved to stand, something poked me in the chest. The sensation alone was surprising let alone the fact it came from inside my robe. I instantly reached inside and pulled out what I suspected I might have left for myself.

Hello,

Well, I dare say this may be the oddest experience I've ever had the pleasure of well, experiencing. Likely, you are wondering exactly who you are, where this place is, and... well I hesitate to even attempt to predict what I - you - might be thinking. Perhaps it is prudent I speak as if we are separate, this is, of course, true for you, but for me... not quite yet. To begin, and to omit the process, I have erased myself. You, my friend, are what is left. I know I - you - damn it, are the curious sort, or should be if anything of myself remains so I will concede my reasoning if only for the fact I know it would otherwise itch at my mind for all of eternity. The reason I decided to erase myself was for a self-imposed second chance if you will. We are not good men, you and I, and I have many regrets. I was a man given too much power much too fast, we became something I hated, before we even realized it.

That is all I am willing to share, save for this consolation. We have no friends, nor family. The only companions we ever had were enemies and regrets. The enemies I am sure will never find you. You are safe in this library. This is a luxury I can afford you, one that the power I have grants me, take this as an axiom, I can afford such promises. I cannot promise the regrets will never find you, should you ever find out who you are. I do not know whether you will feel the crushing guilt if ever upon learning it, I hope you do not. As you are not I, and I am not you.

I find myself rambling now, to myself no less. What cruel humor. You are in a great library fathoms deeps and nowhere near any sign of sentient life. You are surrounded by dangers if you leave these shelves. I am sorry friend, if you ever make it out of this place, then perhaps I truly do deserve a second chance.

In truth, I am not even entirely sure you'll be able to read. But in the case we are lucky, I have compiled a... pile of books you may find pertinent. There is no telling what exactly will be erased in this process, so I apologize if anything I've left for you seems redundant.

Best of luck.

There was a great feeling of loss that rushed through me. If this truly was me, then I was a desperate man, maybe misunderstood, but nonetheless one who made unforgivable mistakes. The knowledge would've been sobering if my mood wasn't already so solemn.

My past aside, if at this point I could even claim it as my own, my past self had truly, for lack of a better phrase, fucked me. I tucked the note into my robe once again, unsure what else to do with it.

I began by gathering all the books at a study table. He had truly left an enormous amount of material. Comparing the books he had compiled with the ones I randomly had plucked off the shelf, I was glad for his efforts. The first book I examined from a nearby shelf was The Life of a Newt which detailed the life cycle of, you guessed it, a newt. And not any spectacular breed or species of newt. Just, very simply, a newt.

The desire to explore my unknown surroundings was tempting, but in this, I decided to trust my old self. There were too many blank spaces in my mind that needed to be filled with something substantial. I was completely clueless to the world and that fact became painfully obvious as I skimmed the titles of the books. I wasn't even familiar with any of the subjects.

In the process of setting up the table, I had no idea why I wasn't in the first place, I found a sizeable stockpile of food and drink all wrapped up nearby my initial spot I awoke in.

That entire day, I read.