Location from The Library at Mount Char by Scott Hawkins
The impossible repository of all knowledge in existence — Father's domain, divided into catalogs, currently sealed and silent since his disappearance.
The Library is the center of everything. It contains all knowledge that has ever existed or will exist, organized into catalogs — discrete domains of understanding that Father assigned to each of his adopted children. It is not a building in any conventional sense; it is a space that Father created or found or perhaps always existed, and he shaped it into a system for storing and transmitting the fundamental nature of reality. When Father was present, the Library was alive — doors opened, catalogs were accessible, the space responded to the needs of its students. Now it is sealed. The doors won't open. The knowledge is still there but unreachable, like a locked server farm. The children can feel it — their catalogs are part of them, and the Library's closure is like a phantom limb. Getting back in is the first crisis. What they find when they do is the second.
The Library defies consistent physical description because it doesn't obey consistent physical rules. It presents as an impossibly vast structure — halls of shelves extending beyond sight, rooms that change size depending on what's being studied, architecture that folds in on itself in ways Euclidean geometry can't accommodate. The light is sourceless. The air smells of dust and ozone and something older than either. Some sections are warm and lamp-lit like a university reading room; others are dark and cold and feel like standing at the edge of an abyss.
Also known as: The Library, the Library at Mount Char, Father's Library, the stacks