"Over here," Amalthea called, sniffing at a pair of heavy wooden doors, ornately carved and still beautifully detailed despite the depredations of time and decay. A great swathe of mold-black speckling turned the doors dual-toned, but near the top of the frame, they could see the original red-brown color, washed out by Fei's blue-white light. Ancient, rusted sconces on either side of the door had once held torches in matching dragon-jaws, as if the iron creatures had been breathing fire themselves. This part of the Dungeon, the ruins of what must have been an old castle, had escaped much of the plant growth that swallowed the upper levels of the Dungeon; while damp, there were only pockets of moss, not the thick carpet that sometimes swallowed wood and stone, leaving the structures of the Dungeon unrecognizable under its green cloak. Fetch had called this place a Tower, although they hadn't (yet) found any evidence of stairs up or down. 

Oberon lumbered over, sniffing at one of the sconces. He sneezed. "The soot's recent."

Thiel rapped the door with a hoof. "These seem pretty solid still. Fetch?"

"Knowledge can hurt." The Dungeon-born Courser tossed her head, looking up at the carved stones of the arched door frame. "Are you sure you want to risk it?"

Amalthea and Thiel glanced at each other. Fetch's words weren't usually reassuring, but this seemed almost like a warning. 

"Maggie, can you open the door?" Oberon asked, ignoring Fetch's warning. Later, Amalthea would wonder about that; Oberon was usually the careful one. The Hand opened, palm-up, its version of a shrug. Maggie floated over to the door, seizing one of the heavy iron rings. Bits of rust flaked away as the Hand pulled and pulled, to no avail; releasing the handle, Maggie gave Oberon a thumbs down. 

"What do you think?" Amalthea asked, her tail flicking back and forth in indecision. "Thiel?"

"Forewarned is prepared," he pointed out. "I say we go in."

"So it shall be," Fetch murmured, apparently desisting. Oberon turned to aim his powerful hindquarters at the door; the other three Coursers backed away to avoid the debris they knew would go flying. 

The big grey kicked the door with both hind feet, slamming into the damaged surfaces with an almighty crash. Splinters flew as the door shattered, no match for Oberon's brute strength and iron shoes. Amalthea's wisp, Fei, shot up to the ceiling to avoid being skewered; Maggie hid in Fetch's mane. As the dust settled, Oberon turned around to examine the newly-opened door.

"Books," he grumbled, shaking his head. Books were rarely worth much. Coursers didn't use them, and the Wizard only cared about his own. Still, there might be something worthwhile in there. As he stepped into the library, Amalthea and Thiel crowded in after him. Fei swooped over their heads to illuminate the space, revealing floor-to-ceiling shelves lined with books, their covers crumbling with age and dry rot. 

Amalthea peered at one of the books near her, faint lines of gold leaf still visible. Suddenly, the silence was filled with a strange, papery chattering. Oberon screamed a response, rearing; Amalthea wrenched her gaze to him, only to find books flying at him like demented bats, their pages rustling in the wind of their passage. Thiel ducked as a heavy tome careened past, exactly where his head would have been. More books bombarded Amalthea, slamming against her armor and making her stumble. The air was filled with a thousand voices, shrieking strange words she didn't know. Fei fluttered helplessly, doing its best not to get smacked out of the air. 

"Maggie!" Fetch ordered sharply. The Hand ducked through the chaos with a length of splintered wood ripped from the remains of the doors, arrowing for Thiel. "Hold still!" Fetch snarled at him. He paused, surprised at her vehemence. Maggie opened the catch on the lantern and lit the piece of wood, turning into a firebrand. It turned on the books, swinging the improvised torch to clear the air. But there were so many books, and knocking them down only did so much...

One of them caught flame, careening into one of the shelves, and snuffed itself out as it fell . Others continued burning, trailing cinders as they flew, turning the weapon back on the Coursers. Amalthea smacked one out of the air, only to be besieged by three more; Thiel stomped on a fallen book as it tried to rise. All the while, they screamed, a litany of complaints or curses or simply the cries of battle, Amalthea didn't know. All she knew was that Fetch had evidently been quite literal this time as the sharp corner of a book slammed against her sensitive nose. Knowledge can hurt, indeed!