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limped toward the village with a rolling, ungainly gait, like a malformed bear clumsily attempting to walkon two legs. There was no mistaking what it was. A grimoire had escaped from the vault. Drawing upon the power of the sorcery between its pages, it had swelled into a gruesome monster of ink and leather.
    Upon sighting a Malefict, Elisabeth was supposed to alert the nearest warden or, if that was impossible, race up the stairs to ring the Great Library’s warning bell. The bell would call the wardensto arms and prompt the townspeople to evacuate into the shelter beneath the town hall. But there was no time. If Elisabeth turned back, the monster would reach Summershall before anyone even had a chance to rise from bed. Countless people would die in the streets. It would be a slaughter.
    Officium adusque mortem. Duty unto death. She had passed beneath that inscription a thousand times. She mightnot be a warden yet, but she would never be able to call herself one if she turned away now. Protecting Summershall was her responsibility, even at the cost of her life.
    Elisabeth flew through the gate and down the hill. The sharp gravel gave way to a soft, wet carpet of moss and fallen leaves that soaked the hem of her nightgown. She tripped over a root in her path, nearly losing her grip onthe sword, but the Malefictdidn’t pause, only continued its lumbering advance in the opposite direction.
    Now she was close enough to gag on its rotten stench. And to see how big it was, far larger than a man, with limbs as thick and gnarled as tree stumps. Paralyzing waves of fear crashed over her. Demonslayer grew heavy in her hands at last. She was no hero, just a girl in a nightgown who happenedto be holding a sword. Was this the way the Director had felt, Elisabeth wondered, when she faced her first Malefict?
    I don’t have to beat it , she thought. If she could distract it for long enough, and make enough of a commotion doing so, she might save the town. After all, disturbing the peace is what I’m good at. Most of the time, I do it without even trying. Courage crept back to her, freeingher frozen limbs. She drew in a deep breath and shouted wordlessly into the night.
    The wind tore her voice to shreds, but the monster finally lumbered to a halt. The oily black leather of its hide rippled as if reacting to a fly. After a long, considering pause, it turned to face her.
    It was bulky and roughly man-shaped, but lopsided, crude, as if a child had fashioned it from a lump of clay.Dozens of bloodshot eyes bulged across every inch of its surface, ranging from the size of teacups to the size of dinner plates. Their pupils had shrunk to pinpricks, and all of them stared directly at Elisabeth. The library’s most dangerous grimoire walked free. The Book of Eyes had returned.
    After gazing at her for a moment, it wavered, torn between her and the town. Slowly, its eyes beganto roll back in the direction of Summershall. It must not have seen her as a threat. Compared to all those people ahead, she wasn’t worth bothering with. She needed to convince it otherwise.
    She raised Demonslayer and charged, leaping over fallen branches, dodging between the trees. The Malefict’s bulky form loomed above her, blocking out the moonlight. She held her breath against its nauseatingstench. Several of its eyes swiveled to focus on her, their pupils enlarging in surprise, but that was all they had a chance to see before the blade swiped across them, spattering ink in an arc through the shadows.
    The monster’s roar shook the ground. Elisabeth kept running; she knew she couldn’t face the Book of Eyes head-on. She plunged through the orchard and skidded to a crouch behind themossy ruin of an old stone well, sucking in gasps of clean air.
    Somehow, hiding from the monster was worse than facing it. She couldn’t see what it was doing, which allowed her imagination to fill in the gaps. But she did determine, without a doubt, that it was looking for her. Though