Firelight nestled like a bird in the lenses of askew reading glasses, flickering while the librarian, Ivonne scratched at parchment restlessly.

“Plague it,” Her voice rasped, unused for hours while she bend over this fragile book attempting to record the various tales and limericks drilling honeycombs from her head, extracting the honey of her sanity. She set the pen down with such force that it set into the wood of the writing desk.

Ivonne groaned and pushed away from the…