I’ve spent enough time in the archives to know that the Library was a sort of melting pot for ideas. They had scrolls on everything from astronomy to mythology, so it’s not a stretch to imagine that stories from the Egyptian, Greek, and Near‑Eastern worlds mingled there. A single myth could have been reshaped by scholars, merged with local legends, and then carried out to the Roman world. Think of the story of the goddess Isis—her cult spread across the Mediterranean, and elements of her myth seeped into Roman deities and even later medieval romance. If the Library had curated some of those texts, it could have amplified the reach of those narratives. So yes, I do think that the lost Library may have acted like a catalyst, pushing certain myths into the mainstream and letting them evolve into the stories we still tell.

I’d start with a simple detail: the oracle’s name. In the Alexandrian scroll it’s called “The Sphinx of Heliopolis,” but as the tale drifts eastward it becomes “The Whispering Stone” in Rome, and then “The Stone of Secrets” in the medieval ballad. That single shift in name carries the story from a specific Egyptian riddle to a more universal, ambiguous prop, and it changes how people relate to it—moving from a known deity to a mysterious object, which lets the ballad frame it as a curse rather than a divine message. That’s probably the most obvious ripple you’ll see.