Deep beneath the Grand Library, where the air tasted of ancient sulfur and mildewed calfskin, Librarian Gui stood beside the towering shelves of black ironwood.
The frail disguise was gone; his six foot frame cast a long, predatory shadow across the floorboards as the sickly green flame inside his brass lantern flickered in the draft.
Su Rou held the skin bound scripture against her ribs, feeling the unnatural heat of the dead leather bleeding through the lavender silk of her dress.
Her heart beat with a strange, intoxicating rhythm, the stolen spiritual root in her chest humming with dark vitality after the sacrifice of the servant girl.
"The crude butcher uses a broadaxe, Lady Su," Gui spoke, his voice a smooth, hypnotic baritone that resonated against the damp granite stones. "Amate
