When the monsters came, every able-bodied townsperson went out to fight. The children and the elderly took shelter inside the cathedral, and the old monk was among them. He sat among what they could rescue from the monastery library and did his best to keep the urchins from touching the valuable books, grumbling all the while.
Suddenly, there was an ear-splitting roar, and the whole building shook. The monk smelled brimstone. The children wailed in terror.
He sighed. “Who wants to hear a story?”
The library was their history, but the children were their future, and he would protect both.

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