Einar crouched in the ruins of the Oslo Vault, the last stronghold of Ragnarok Libros. Above, through a shattered dome, the sky churned the color of spoiled milk. The air smelled of ozone and burning yew.
Einar took a slow breath. "You don't understand. Ragnarok Libros wasn't founded to prevent the end. We were founded to edit it."
He pulled from his coat a small, battered notebook. Its cover read: Final Draft – Annotated by Librarian Council, Revision 47.