It took Valen a few more days to completely reveal the solid oak table that had once been the foundation of a blooming kingdom of Dust Bunnies. Meanwhile, Valen remained silent, mulling over his thoughts. Organizing Information, digesting concepts, forming plans, and ultimately tempering his frayed mind.
Valen had studied every day for months straight, only stopping to eat what the grand librarians had offered him, and cleaning its stone floors and wooden shelves. He did not mind spending his time in such a mind-numbing manner, for him it was simply a brief respite in between what would be likely the most tumultuous moments of his life. The bitter struggle to survive the streets as an orphaned child after his Grandmother passed away. Neither his Grandmother, nor his parents, had been able to leave anything behind for him. After all, their struggles in this world that was foreign to them inevitably culminated in their downfalls.
That was not to say Valen felt invalid in his struggles. His body had paid a price to compensate with a continued lease on life. Dulling his fingertips over washing boards, injuring his legs and lower back attempting to lift things he couldn't. Not to mention the random scars from cuts and scrapes from various odd labor jobs he had been forced to take over the past 8 years. At least, he believed it had only been 8 years, it was hard to be certain afterall.
Despite those burdens and struggles, Valen held onto a single phrase to anchor his undeveloped mind to his breaking body.
'Knowledge is Power'
The words rang in his mind like a haunting reminder of his Grandmother. Her words struck him endlessly, recalling unfortunate memories of his Grandmother.
His Grandmother, just like his parents, was a migrant to this terribly twisted place. Trapped in an unfamiliar land, mourning the loss of her daughter and her husband to its haunted lands. Struck with grief, she drilled the phrase into his mind. Being such a young child, he could not grasp the depths of its meaning, frightening his blossoming mind. However, in whatever bitterly ironic manner, those words were the only thing keeping him attached to the world of the living.
Even on his most exhausting days, he would burrow into the winding maze of the Grand Citadel Library, slowly chipping away at the seemingly endless corridors searching for the Power hidden in its Knowledge.
In retrospect, Valen knew that there was no power within the knowledge itself. One must wield Knowledge in order to grasp Power. Elder Caruse always loved to interpret different aspects of power, claiming knowledge to only be a fragment. While He may have been right, Valen did not care, he only had eyes for what he felt was within his grasp.
Valen seemed to find a hint of solace within the depths of the library. At first, he was in search of only the topics he deemed relevant to his inevitable future in this world. Principles of Survival, Basics of Tool creation and Harvesting of crafting materials, and other materials that most children would have learned from private tutors if they were wealthy, or public instructors if they were average citizens.
Unable to attend such lessons himself, he was desperate to catch-up to his peers. As such he spent much time consuming and understanding the contents and principles. It wasn't until he began to submerge himself in the depths of history that he began to understand his Grandmother's words.
Afterall, in a twisted world where there was no single history, the knowledge of the past was vast enough to consume the mind of a mere child.
'The Pursuit of Experiences'
The perilous pursuit that had claimed the lives of many natives and migrants, indiscriminate of age or status. The core of all existence, the passage of time, and what could be harvested within it.
Many Elders of the Grand Citadel Library believed that Humans, a rather porous species, was primarily formed by the compounding of their own experiences. There was quite a good reason for such a theory, regardless of the blatant theoretical meaning of the phrase. That reason was: The Paths.
The Path one takes in life is the core of one's existence in this world. Those who refuse to walk their path will only remain stagnant, and undeveloped. Trapped in the mire of the ruthless cutthroat world, or at least that was the case for Valen. In truth, there were many ways to carve out a meaningful and joyous life without following a "Path". However, Valen was blind to such ways, because he did not want a meaningful and joyous life.
Valen craved his own power. He thirsted for it, he starved for it, he suffered for it, and so he would have it. He would venture forth, and seek it out. Disregarding its price, or consequences. To him, he was promised one single thing, and so he gripped onto it and refused to let go.
Valen's steps grew heavier as he placed the last brick of his kingdom into the sliver of a gap between two leather-bound books. Drawing in a deep breath of air, he felt the stale air rush across the cracks in his dried lips.
"Finally."
Valen's voice creaked out into the world, full of breathy undertones. He reminisced the past few peaceful months he had spent amongst these books, his eyes wandering.
'It is quite a shame to end this peaceful existence.'
Valen shook his head as he followed the various glyphs that adorned the ends of the bookshelves, following their directions.
'I cannot think that way. This was never going to last, it was simply a means to an end. Whether it is the End I wish for or not, I cannot control such things.'
Valen had no power to change his fate or destiny, if such things existed to begin with.
Valen doubted that even someone with all of Elder Caruse's aspects of Power could accomplish such a feat. Regardless, he had no intention of merely surrendering himself to such a concept.
As his surroundings seemed to grow brighter, and the air fresher, Valen contemplated how much longer he should give himself before he set off. Meanwhile, other Senior and Junior Librarians looked as if they had seen a ghost.
Normally, said Ghost would not venture this far from the depths, often sleeping amongst his fortress, while Elder Caruse would bring him some food and drink. Whilst he had a bed within the sleeping quarters reserved for him and his possessions, it was most often left empty. So amongst the Junior Librarians, the rumor of a ghost dwelling in the depths near the ancient portions of the citadel had begun to spread.
With a singular silver cord adorning his creased and worn out linen robe, Valen trudged his way past the various onlookers, completely unaware of their shocked expressions. Thoughts of a deep sleep had consumed his mind, using the last of his feeble strength to trek across the massive stone tiles, seeking his bed in the sleeping quarters for the first time in a long time.
While his Consciousness waned, as he lowered himself into the delicate grace of actual bedding, his subconscious was fraught with activity. Valen did not have a strong, robust, and healthy body; Nor did he have the seemingly mystical eyes of his Elder, it did not mean that Valen did not have his own talents.
His mind had been melted down to the core of its existence once as a child, anchored to a single phrase. From that empty and bleak mind, Valen had built a library of his own. Even in the throes of laborious tasks for menial wages, Valen compartmentalized his own mind, facilitating the digestion of knowledge even when his body could not keep up. As such, Valen was often plagued with dreams of horrible pasts, and his sleep was rarely peaceful.
This was not to say Valen's memory was perfect, nor was he a genius. However, continuous repetition forced the contents of the shelves in his mind to hold their print. He could not recall information instantly, but he had developed a superior way to store the information in his mind permanently.
While he remained aware that his mind had changed fundamentally, he did not relish in that fact. Change was not without its costs, the rules of cause and effect were woven deeply into the laws of reality. While Valen may have yielded a desirable effect for some, it had cost him much of himself.
He would never be able to relive his childhood. He would not get to return to those formative years, and gather meaningful memories to hold onto throughout his life. He would never be able to relate to the children he may have one day. He would remain different from the other individuals in this corrupted and demented world. He was still unsure how to feel about those facts.
Valen had become numb to the complexity of his own emotions. He had grown erratic at some points, requiring time for his mind to slowly reform and heal. Conversing occasionally with Elder Caruse during said moments were instrumental to regaining the control needed to form himself back into a human, and not something akin to a wraith in a body of flesh.
So, his subconscious persisted, finalizing the ink on the last of books that had taken him years to remake in his mind. It perused the vast collection of shelves, peering into the contents within, revealing the remaining truths that lay within those pages.
The Truths of the world, both practical and impractical, theoretical and factual, from past to present to future. Valen knew that the Grand Citadel Library did not have all the answers to the questions one can pose to the world, but he knew that there was little left that the place could reveal to him, even Elder Caruse knew it.
There was only one question left for Valen to answer: Could he bear the burden of all that Truth?