The New Jedi Knights

Chapter 17: New Allies

When they got to the other side of the wormhole, the place they arrived at... was empty. They had to walk through two rooms of a very large hallway to find a room that had something in it. On the last doorway had a cuneiform script.

It was Brandon that had to use the Force to translate what it said.
He read it out loud to Nomi,
"Library of the Akkadians."
He had a puzzled look on his face.
"That is very interesting. There is a period in Earth's history of a group of
people who had the same name."

"It's up to us to read these books and learn what we can from these Akkadians.
These people might just be allies of the ancient Jedi since the ancient Jedi are from Earth."

The Library of the Akkadians stands as a monument to knowledge, an immense structure carved from time itself. Towering stone walls, weathered by the ages, enclose a vast hall illuminated by the soft golden glow of oil lanterns and flickering candlelight. The air carries the rich scent of parchment, ink, and aged wood, mingled with the faint aroma of dried herbs used to preserve the delicate manuscripts.

As you step inside, an intricate mosaic beneath your feet depicts celestial constellations, ancient symbols of wisdom, and mythological figures believed to have bestowed knowledge upon humanity. Towering bookshelves, crafted from dark mahogany and adorned with ornate carvings, stretch toward the domed ceiling, which itself is a masterpiece of artistry — painted with faded yet intricate depictions of scholars, scribes, and philosophers from civilizations long past.

Long wooden tables, worn smooth by the hands of countless scholars, stand between massive bookshelves overflowing with illuminated manuscripts, leather-bound tomes, and scrolls wrapped in silk ribbons. The texts are penned in countless languages — Sanskrit, Greek, Latin, Egyptian hieroglyphs, and scripts unknown to the modern eye. Some manuscripts are housed within locked glass cases, their brittle pages too fragile to be exposed to open air.

A labyrinth of towering wooden racks holds thousands of scrolls, meticulously arranged in cylindrical compartments. Some are tied with faded red cords, their edges adorned with intricate calligraphy, while others bear seals of wax and ancient sigils, unopened for centuries. A spiral staircase leads to a mezzanine where more scrolls rest in alcoves, hidden away in the dim glow of flickering torches.

Enormous parchment maps are stretched across oak tables, depicting lost cities, ancient trade routes, and lands beyond recorded history. Some maps bear notations in different hands, evidence of scholars adding knowledge across generations. A grand globe, carved from obsidian and brass, rotates ever so slightly, reflecting a world long before the continents took their modern shape.

At the heart of the library stands a sacred vault where artifacts of forgotten civilizations rest — tablets inscribed with cuneiform, bone-carved runes, papyrus fragments from Egyptian temples, and stone engravings from Mesoamerican pyramids. Small, delicate statues of deities and mythical figures line the chamber, each believed to hold a story waiting to be deciphered.

This is where the scribes work, copying texts by candlelight, using quills dipped in ink made from rare minerals and plant extracts. Shelves are stocked with blank vellum, inks of varying hues, and wax for sealing important documents. The scratch of quills upon parchment echoes softly, a timeless melody of dedication to preserving knowledge.

Tucked between great pillars and shadowed corridors are reading nooks where scholars sit on cushioned benches, poring over their chosen texts. Some areas have stone lecterns for reading heavier tomes, while others have scroll racks for those who wish to cross-reference ancient wisdom. It is said that when the library is silent, the faint whisper of old voices can be heard—perhaps the spirits of those who once studied within these walls.