Morning light scampered across the stone floor as if it were afraid to touch the walls. The library smelled of rotted paper and ash, and it was icy and older than the pack itself.

Maya and I had been there since before daybreak. A pile of books, half translated scrolls, ritual papers, and prohibited histories that we had pilfered from the High Council's archives a number of years prior rested between us.

They didn't tell us what we wanted to hear.

With a groan, Maya leaned her head on ...