Social standards change all the time and if I were to just discard all these tomes bound in flesh, written with blood, then what would I do with all my leftover buckets of blood? Not to mention the shifting piles of skin?
I’m not saying that crafting these forbidden books was a great idea, but I’m saying: What’s the big hurry to get rid of them? Just because there’s a few tiny crowds of peasants bearing torches and clubs approaching?
C’mon.
They might still change their minds.