“This is way more serious than I thought, isn’t it?” Oliver looked at Kate, who was currently lying face down beside him on one of the couches in the library office.

  “Yea…”

  “How bad? Just hit me with the full facts, don’t sugarcoat it.”

  “They might try to kill us, you and me and everyone we love. That’s why Az came to you to offer you protection. They will burn this library if we give them the chance and, if they are smart enough to use the knowledge and objects in our vaults, reshape the world to their will. Thankfully, they are pretty stupid.”

  “Stupid also means they would likely try it. I know enough religious nutcases to worry.”

  Kate rolled over, staring at the ceiling now. “You can stay in Hell until we have found a way to sort this out.”

  “A tempting offer. This has you properly shaken, hasn’t it? I don’t think you would offer me, a guy, to stay in Hell for this long otherwise.”

  “I’m scared, Oliver. I’m so fucking afraid for the people I love. I know what losing someone did to Polly before I showed up, I don’t want that to happen to me.”

  “Understandable, even though I don’t know how Apollyon used to be before you came into her life. You said she lost someone?”

  “Everyone here and in Hell told me that after her human friend from the medieval times was…” Kate let out a pained sigh. “She was burned for being a witch. Polly had taught her how to read and some basics like how to treat wounds and what herbs help with what ailments. The local lord had her burned for that and the angels intervened, enforcing the Treaty. They stopped Polly from saving her and made her watch. Polly withdrew after that, she no longer left the library on this side, no longer went out to simply enjoy things like food or anything. She used to work, cook for herself as the tiniest treat, sleep to not think about her pain and ruminate on everything else that she felt she did wrong in life. She eventually moved on, but the depression she had spiralled herself into was still there, until I came along. The st vestige of that was the regret she clung to about dissolving the armed forces. She stabbed me over that, and I am gd she did. That's what made her snap out of it.”

  “Fuck… I feel so sorry for her. I never imagined…”

  “She’s fine now. She will be fine, don’t you worry. I will be fine too. Unlike Polly, I don’t have angels trying to stop me. And I have several of the most powerful demons backing me up. If the FBC manages to even harm anyone, we will leave nothing but ashes.”

  “That sounds almost reassuring.” Oliver chuckled. That lifted Kate’s mood as well.

  “So, you’re taking that vacation in Hell or not?”

  “Two weeks, sure. But a day more and you would have to come up with a very good justification for my absence.”

  “I hope that we have a more permanent solution in less than two weeks.”

  “Ah, hello Kate.”

  “Hey Phea. Fascinating book you got there, don’t think I’ve seen that on the shelves.”

  Kate had found Phea ter that night on the bottom floor of the library, reading an ancient tome of some sort.

  “The Book of Paths, it’s a collection of morality tales given to us from the demons and angels who guided us back in Atntis.”

  “Huh, I thought all Atntean writing was done on stone sbs.”

  Phea shrugged. “We never invented paper, this was made by demons and handed out to anyone who wanted a copy. Being made from paper made it all the more special. The writing material of deities: light, thin, and sturdy.”

  “Sturdy?”

  “It doesn’t break when you drop it.”

  “That’s fair. Did you read it back then?”

  “Often. In the temples we often cited the tales to give guidance to those who needed it.”

  “And I take it you want to read it again because you haven’t in a very long time.”

  Phea nodded. “Twelve thousand years… I should find out who I need to ask to get a copy for home. My experience accompanying Clementine, who is wonderful by the way, made me question a few things. I decided to start from the basis of my believes and see where I end up after questioning things.”

  “I might need more details, especially about what made you question things.”

  “The guy at the FBC said things about a bible, some holy book he believes in. I took a look at that and the notes about it made by demonic schors. It was concerning how much it had in common with the Book of Paths. I wondered if my own morals are based on something as outdated and fwed as his are.”

  Kate took a seat next to the Shadow and looked at the old tome. “I should read this thing too. You said both angels and demons wrote it together?”

  “Yes, at least the cover says so.”

  “I’ll trust the cover for now, but I’ll ask Lilith ter.”

  “Good pn.”

  “Any favourite stories in there? Just so you know where I can start.”

  “Mirim the wary who learns the importance of curiosity is one I'm especially fond of. The blind baker and the wordless traveller are the two I would say shaped me the most. I guess you could start with those.”

  “Sounds good.” Kate got up again. “I’ll go fetch another copy from the vault, I’ll be right back.”

  After a few moments, Kate teleported back into the library hall and sat down beside Phea again. “Found it. Let’s see…”

  Mirim was a guardsman renowned for being overly careful. He would follow all ws and guidelines to the letter, even in his home where no one else could judge him. He would only eat what he knew, only drink water from the wells he had tasted from before, only wear the clothes he knew were safe in the colours he always wore. Mirim lived his life in subtle fear of the unknown. Strange tastes made him feel sick, water from unknown wells scared him and clothes in colours he was not used to made him uncomfortable. He never left his hometown, the wilderness was dangerous.

  One day, he was alone during his shift at the town gates when a child ran up to him asking for his help. The child’s friend had been taken by bad people and dragged into hideout nearby. This was not Mirim’s task, he was supposed to guard the gate but no one else could help the child. He did not know what to do, but the child dragged him to the hideout by his sleeve.

  The bandits in their hideout were quickly dispatched by a skilled guardsman like Mirim, but the child’s friend had been bound by magic. Mirim had kept away from magic. It scared him. The bandits had left many magical tools behind, all stolen from traders who had passed through the town. All this was happening right under Mirim’s nose for many years and now the bandits wanted to get a nice ransom for the child’s friend, who had noticed the bandits stealing the tools.

  Mirim did not know what to do. He couldn’t use the tools, they were dangerous. But he also couldn’t leave the child and their friend behind. The child then said to him that maybe one of the tools could dispel the magical bindings. There was no choice, Mirim had to try something new, he had to figure out what the tools did and find the right one. He could not get help, leaving even just one of the two children in this cave was a bad idea. It was almost nighttime and predators lived in these parts of the wilderness outside the town. And so, Mirim steeled himself and reached for the magical crystal the bandits had used to create the bindings. He made bindings of his own, binding a nearby rock.

  One by one, Mirim tried the tools on the bindings, finding out what each of them did. Only one cut the bindings, but every tool was useful in another way. One made light, another was a sewing implement, there was even one that created a fresh hot beverage from thin air. Once he had cut the child’s friend free, Mirim looked at the tools on floor. How had he never learned about them? Why did his own fear keep him from finding such useful things? He would never need to stich up his uniform by hand again when it tore. He could enjoy freshly brewed tea during a cold night. He guided the children back to the town and said to himself that his life had to change.

  The next morning, he ate his bread differently, instead of his usual fruit spread, he simply roasted the bread and ate it without condiments. That was the beginning of his new life. He tried new foods for every meal, he sought out magical tools for his job, trained in things he could have never imagined and met new friends he never thought existed. He never lived in fear again and embraced the unknown and wonderful, always seeking something new to learn and experience.

  A young baker lived in a small vilge far out in the lower pins. She aspired to make the best bread anyone had ever tasted. She dreamed of sharing her recipe with anyone who wanted to make the best bread themselves. One day, a careless apprentice dropped a bag of flour across the hot oven and burned the bakery and the baker. Her face was scared, her eyes seared shut and her dreams broken. She would never be able to rebuild her bakery, never be able to make her bread again. She surrendered to her fate. But the vilgers did not. They came together to rebuild the bakery they had gotten their bread from. They made it safer. They thought of ways to help the baker bake blind and learned how to help her as best they could. Still, her heart remained broken and her dream cast aside. Still, the vilgers insisted that she baked their bread with them, following her recipe.

  Many years ter, a young prince visited the vilge and asked for what the vilgers were most proud of. Despite the protests of the baker, they presented her bread. The prince procimed that he had never tasted more delicious bread and decreed that the recipe be spread across the kingdom. Before he departed, he demanded to speak to the baker who made the bread. The baker, now old and tired, reluctantly agreed after the other vilgers wanted her tell the prince the truth. It was her recipe, her bread, the vilgers insisted they had merely been her hands and eyes. The words the prince spoke were only heard by her ears, but she regained her happiness that day. The prince always looked to that vilge to inspire his eventual reign. The vilgers had dared to dream the bakers shattered dream and so did the prince dream his peoples’ dreams, no matter how impossible they may have seemed.

  A traveller came to the city and, without saying a single word, rented a room at the nearest tavern. The traveller was strange, he always sat alone and observed the people and pces around him. Many people were unnerved by him, but he never harmed anyone, so they didn't pay him much attention. Every few days, the traveller withdrew to his room and didn’t not return to the outside world for an entire day. When he did, he found a different pce to sit and observe. One day, he left the city. He had never spoken to anyone. No one knew his name or where he came from or why he was in the city. Days ter, when the tavernkeeper cleaned the traveller’s room, he found what the traveller did. They were gifts to the people of the city, each belled with a name of someone who had shown him small acts of kindness, as small as making room for him to pass by on the street. Every gift was a painting of a pce of meaning for the recipient. The people who received paintings held them very dear and sometimes shared tales of strangers returning small kindnesses. Those who did not often found themselves alone, never noticing kindness as they had never known it in their own hearts.

  “These are quite nice.” Kate looked up from the book and at Phea.

  “You did read this bible, right?”

  “Parts, yes.”

  “Do you think this is anything like the bible?”

  “In a way, but this far less about following the ws of God and more about living a good life. It might be simir in style and some pieces of content, but I think this is better.”

  “Thank you, that means a lot.”

  “If everything in here is as baseline and nice as ‘curiosity can make your life better’, ‘help people in need’ and ‘a little kindness goes a long way’, this is a good book to base your morals on. Far better than ‘obey God or be turned into a salt pilr’.”

  “What?” Phea sounded incredulous.

  “Just your average bible story. It’s a lot of God punishing people for not following orders and promising good things if they do and remarkably little of the actually rewarding people. The Book of Paths wants you to live a good life, the bible wants you to obey.”

  “No wonder the everyone in Hell despises religions so much. I assume the others are quite simir.”

  “Some are, yes. Every religion has its problems, some more, some less. I’m quite happy to be part of a culture that doesn’t bother with all of this nonsense, to be honest.”

  “Strange… we never had religions in Atntis. I don’t know why you would want to worship something and ruin your life for it.”

  “That is something I can’t answer and almost hope that I never find out.”