There are libraries that hold the knowledge of men.

There are libraries that guard the secrets of kings.

And then…

There is the 13th Library of the World.

A place where every book ever lost is kept.

Every story never finished.
Every spell forgotten.
Every prophecy erased.

And within its endless halls, there are books that should never be read.

I know this because I have been there.

I turned its pages.

And I learned the one secret even I wish I could forget.

The Library That Should Not Exist

There are many libraries in the world.

Some hold the wisdom of ages.
Some hold the secrets of the damned.

And then there is the 13th Library.

A place no map can lead you to.
A place where books do not belong to time.

Where words never die.

The Whisper of Lost Knowledge

It began with a rumor.

A whisper carried on the wind, passed between old scholars, forgotten sorcerers, and madmen who spent their lives chasing knowledge best left buried.

“There is a library,” they murmured.

“A library where every lost book still exists.”

“Where forgotten texts are kept safe—until someone dares to read them.”

I had spent centuries collecting knowledge, artifacts, spells.

But a place that kept every lost book in history?

That was something even I had never dared to dream of.

So, naturally, I went looking.

And eventually…

It found me.

The Entrance That Moves

The 13th Library has no fixed door.

It moves, appearing only where it chooses.

To some, it is a crumbling ruin hidden in the sands of an ancient desert.
To others, it is a tower standing on the edge of the world, where the sea meets the stars.

To me?

It was a door in the middle of nowhere, standing alone in a fog-covered valley where no building should have been.

There was no structure.

No walls.

Just a door, carved from black stone, set against the emptiness of the land.

And it was open.

Waiting for me.

The Librarian Who Has No Face

When I stepped through the door, I entered another world.

Shelves stretched beyond sight, filled with books no one should have remembered.

The air was thick with whispers—not from people, but from the books themselves.

And at the heart of it all…

Was the Librarian.

I could not describe him.

Not fully.

Because he had no face.

He was simply there, moving between the shelves, placing books in their proper places with a care that bordered on reverence.

Without turning, he spoke.

“You should not be here.”

“And yet, you have come.”

“What do you seek, Merlin?”

I hesitated.

“Knowledge.”

The Librarian paused, then slowly placed a single book on the table before me.

A book that had no title.

A book that should not have existed.

A book that knew my name.

The Book That Should Never Be Opened

The moment I touched the cover, I felt it.

The weight of something ancient, something that should have been forgotten.

The pages turned on their own.

And what I saw written inside was impossible.

Because the book was writing itself as I read it.

Telling a story I did not remember.

A story that was…

My own.

It was not a history book.

It was a prophecy.

Not of the world.

Not of kings or wars.

But of me.

Of everything I had done… and everything I had not yet done.

And at the final page, written in ink that shimmered like liquid shadow, was the last line:

“And then, at the end of all things, Merlin turned the page and—”

The sentence stopped.

Because the next word had not been written yet.

Because it was waiting for me to turn the page.

And suddenly, I understood.

I was not reading this book.

The book was reading me.

The Knowledge That Should Be Forgotten

I looked up at the Librarian.

“What is this?” I asked.

“A book that should never have been written,” he replied.

“One that should never have been read.”

“And yet, here you are.”

I turned the book over in my hands.

It was too dangerous.

If I turned that page, if I let the book finish its sentence, then it would become true.

Whatever was written would happen.

Even if it was not meant to.

Even if it was never supposed to exist.

I had chased knowledge my whole life.

But there, in that cursed library, I realized something terrifying.

Some books must remain lost.

Some knowledge must never be found.

And some stories…

Are better left unfinished.

The Choice That Cannot Be Undone

I closed the book.

And the whispers stopped.

The air shifted, as if reality itself had let out a breath.

The Librarian nodded.

“You are wiser than most.”

“But tell me, Merlin… will you remember what you learned?”

I did not answer.

Because the truth was—

I did not know.

Merlin’s Final Words

I left the 13th Library that night.

The door closed behind me.

And when I turned back…

It was gone.

No ruin.
No tower.
No valley.

Just empty land, as if it had never been there at all.

But I know it still exists.

I know it still waits.

For the next traveler.

The next fool who comes seeking knowledge best left forgotten.

And if you ever find yourself standing before a door that should not exist…

Turn around.

Walk away.

Because if you step inside…

You may find a book with your name on it.

And once you read it…

You may never be the same again.