You place the false idol's likeness in the recess of the rightmost pedestal. The book beckons to you.
You lean forward, and read:
A long time ago, a man with a lot of institutional religious power, who hated and feared his human desires, made a committee of similar men to edit together pieces of an ancient text to guide the direction of their faith. They removed the pieces that gave women agency or suggested any grey area in morality and connections to higher power. They kept long segments that glorified holy war and prescribed ancient and irrelevant rules around food, homosexuality, and punishment. It became really popular as a tool of social control, promising endless reward as long as you respect authorities you don't understand, and was used to justify wars and subjugation and repression. Eventually, that faith and view (with some variations) took over essentially the entire "developed" world, even those that no longer refer to the book explicitly. So now, instead of wrestling with personal difficulties and ambiguity between what's right and wrong and what feels good and what harms others, it feels much more natural to label something as evil and then try to destroy it, in the name of a puritan higher power, religious or otherwise doctrinal.
The words fade from the page.
You hear a low rumbling, and notice a white mist spidering outward from the path you came by. The rumbling grows louder beyond the pedestals, and you feel the floor shake beneath your feet. The books shiver on their shelves as the mist whispers slowly closer.
Novembius appears beside you:
"You read the forbidden tomes!? Even I don't try to read the forbidden tomes. I think the Maker of this place is angry. You feel that angry vibe?"
Follow the angry mist.
Follow the angry rumbling.