a man holding something—what, they could not see, for drops of ink had fallen there, obscuring the drawing. Whatever the man held, a ray of light shot out from it, and seemed to slay a nightshade. The hero's original face had been scraped away, and replaced with a face that resembled that of Dies Irae's.
"Great!" Kyrie said. He rose to his feet. "So all we need to do is find these Beams, and point them at the nightshades, and kill them. Seems easy enough. So where do we find them?"
Gloriae sighed. "That's the complicated part. Look what it says here. According to this text, the Sun God created the Beams. Which is utter nonsense. The Sun God didn't even exist back in those days; the religion is only a hundred years old. According to the cover, this book is a thousand years old."
"So who did make the Beams?" Kyrie asked. "If we can find whoever made them, they can make us new ones."
Gloriae groaned. "Think, Kyrie! The book is a thousand years old, remember? Whoever made the Beams must be long dead."
"Fine, fine! Well, does it say how to make new Beams?"
Gloriae glared at him. She wanted to throttle him. "I'm trying to read, but it's hard with you talking so much. Do shut up. Honestly, I don't know how my sister puts up with you."
Kyrie grumbled, but otherwise remained silent and let her read. Mythic Creatures of the Gray Age spoke more about the nightshades and their powers, and offered gory illustrations of nightshades devouring people's severed heads, but didn't explain more about the Beams.
"The Beams are definitely the key," she muttered. "It speaks of them again here." She read aloud. "'Lir Irae rode against the nightshades, wielding the Beams of power, and he blinded the nightshades, and drove them into the Well of Night, and sealed them there.'" She scratched her cheek. "But it says nothing about who made the Beams, or how they're used."
She slammed the book shut, stood up, and went to the Black Magic section of the library. She climbed a ladder to the tallest, dustiest shelf. It lay cloaked in shadows and cobwebs. She blew the dust away, brushed the cobwebs aside, and rummaged through the shadows. Soon she found an ancient codex, bound in red leather, titled Artifacts of Wizardry and Power.
She returned with the book to the floor by the window. The sunlight was fading outside. Soon it would be dark and the nightshades would emerge.
"We better hurry," Kyrie said, looking out the window. He clutched his dagger.
"I know, Kyrie. One last book." Gloriae opened Artifacts of Wizardry and Power on the floor, blew more dust away, and began reading. The first chapter spoke of glowing "Animating Stones", which could let statues, suits of armor, and even corpses walk. The second chapter was titled "Summoning Stick"; it showed a golden candlestick decorated with emeralds, which when lit could summon others to aid. The third chapter described the Griffin Heart—"we already know about that one," Gloriae muttered—and the fourth chapter made her gasp and slap the page.
"Here," she said. "The Beams. We found what we need."
Kyrie turned from the window, face pale. "Great, Gloriae. But I think reading time is over."
Outside, the nightshades screeched. Night had fallen.
Gloriae tucked Artifacts of Wizardry and Power under her arm, then looked around.
"Where can we hide here?" she whispered. Her eyes narrowed as she scanned the library.
"The fireplace," Kyrie suggested and pointed. "You'd reckon nightshades would hate fireplaces. Firelight and all."
Gloriae considered. If cornered, they'd be stuck there. Then the nightshades screamed closer, and she saw them swirling outside the window, and she nodded.
They raced to the fireplace and climbed inside. The chimney led into darkness above, two feet wide.
"Into the chimney," she whispered. "Side by side. We'll be hidden there."
She and Kyrie wiggled into the chimney. Soot covered Gloriae's white robes, filled her hair, and tickled her nostrils. Kyrie coughed beside her, pressed against her, and she elbowed him.
"Shh!" she whispered. "No coughing. And keep your feet inside the chimney. They're dangling into the hearth."
He grumbled and pulled his feet up. It was a tight squeeze. Gloriae's back was flat against the chimney bricks. She was pressed against Kyrie, his nose against her cheek, his breath against her mouth.
"Gloriae," he whispered.
"Shh!" She elbowed his stomach—hard—and he grunted and fell silent. Artifacts of Wizardry and Power almost slipped from under her arm, and she tightened her grip on it.
For a moment there was silence. Then Gloriae heard