It took quite a lot of convincing from Petunia to get Lucille to agree to sneak out after

  curfew. Constables patrolled Westborough’s alleys, but after some pleading and

  planning, they each slipped away to meet at the forbidden library. Petunia couldn’t

  believe how difficult it was to sneak out after curfew.

  Constables were keeping order all around Westborough. A slip through the side

  window, a hop down the drainpipe, and then it was just a matter of ducking

  patrols for most of them.

  Westborough’s enforcers were many things, mean, cruel, and easily

  spooked but not particularly attentive.

  All five of the kids met up at the abandoned library early at night.

  “There must be something of use in there!” Said Percival.

  “Digby, stop being so close! You're stepping on my robe!” Eustace whispered.

  From behind the rusted iron gate, the old library loomed like a forgotten

  monument. Its once-proud fa?ade was cracked and weather-worn,

  swallowed in creeping ivy and half-collapsed rain gutters. A crooked sign

  hung by a single nail:

  WESTBOROUGH PUBLIC LIBRARY – CLOSED BY DECREE.

  The windows were dark and boarded up, Moss had overtaken the

  stone steps, and weeds burst through every seam in the brickwork. A

  shattered gargoyle perched above the entrance, its jaw broken off, staring

  down at nothing with hollow eyes. Somewhere within, wind moved through

  the hollow walls and made the building groan like it still remembered being

  important.

  They all slipped into the alley behind the trash bins. The building

  was boarded up tight, its windows dark and its roof had a hole in it.

  Banned and boarded for “ideological hazards,”

  "Remind me why we're breaking into this cursed building again?" Percival

  whispered..

  "Because," Petunia whispered back, "We need to find out more about the

  William Malsham, we're looking for clues. "

  The rear door was warped and weather-beaten, the wood soft with age.

  Percival pushed gently, and it didn't budge.

  “It’s locked of course,”

  “Eustace, we need your lockpick skills.”

  ‘Spiffy spat I'm on it.”

  “Digby, you're in a food trance again. Hold the light on the door!” Eustace whispered.

  With a satisfying click, it was open.

  Dust choked the air.

  “Let me light my wizard lanter.’ said Eustace.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  The lantern was lit and flickered over piles of banned books and propaganda leaflets half-burned in metal

  bins. Cold stone walls. Long-dead candles in silver sconces. Glass exhibits,

  cracked and dry; holding strange trinkets. A lectern with a journal still

  open;there on the visitors log: W.M was here

  “Look! Wm was here. That's a clue!” said Petunia.

  "Ok Everybody separate and look for more clues in this library," whispered Petunia. "Just... don’t knock anything over."

  Digby wandered toward a shelf labeled Cookbooks, Curses, & Cauldrons.

  He scratched his head and pulled one out at random. "'One Hundred and

  One Ways to Cook with Root Grubs'? Eugh!"

  Next to him, Percival was pretending not to be interested, but found

  himself thumbing through a volume titled Spears Through the Ages:

  Poking with Purpose. "Hey, this one has diagrams!"

  Lucille drifted over to a shelf marked Emotions, Potions, and Lotion

  Commotions. She giggled as she pulled out The Lovesick Lamia: Romantic

  Misadventures in the Swamp. "Ooh la la."

  Eustace had already disappeared into a shadowed alcove labeled

  Theoretical Thaumaturgy & Miscellaneous Wonders. He had three books

  open and balanced awkwardly on his arms. "Oh my stars—this one claims

  there’s a lake made entirely of memories somewhere east of the Craglands!"

  “The book, It's glowing again.” Eustace whispered.

  “Shh be quiet.” whispered Percival.

  The book lit up the vast room, casting an eerie green glow across the shelves.

  “It's too bright,” whispered Lucille, shielding her eyes. “Put it away!’

  “There’s nothin’ I can do abou’ it,” muttered Eustace. “It’s guiding me somewhere.”

  He held the Scripture of the Second World out in front of him like a

  lantern, the pages glowing brighter with every step. It led him through the rows of dusty shelves, air thick in the dampness,

  “Where is it taking us?”

  ““I dont know it's pulling me, hold on” whispered Eustacve

  He stopped in front of one particularly crooked bookcase far in the back, where the ne'er do wells go.

  A single book on the shelf shimmered green in reply.

  They scanned the odd titles around it: 101 Curses You Shouldn’t Have

  Read Aloud, Librarian’s Grudge, Vol. III: Annotated and Angry, and Ye

  Olde Index of Smells (Revised & Expanded).

  Petunia reached toward the glowing one.

  “I think it wants us to pull it,” she said.

  “Hold on, I'll pull it.” said Percival. He pulled the book and there was a satisfying click.

  The book stopped glowing. He pulled the book with a satisfying click. The glow ceased. Then, with a creak and a shudder…”

  “Of course it’s stairs,” muttered Petunia. “It’s always the stairs.”

  They descended slowly, their footsteps echoing on the cold stone. The air grew cooler

  with every step, thick with the smell of damp wood and old paper. They followed each

  other down a long dark cold hallway to a door.

  Lucille whispered, “This place feels… older than old.”

  As they stepped into the chamber, the glow from the Scripture of the Second World began to fade.

  “Oi, now it goes dim,” grumbled Digby. he bangs his lantern twice.

  Eustace turned toward an old desk at the far end of the room—slumped across it was a

  figure in dusty robes, bones showing through decayed fabric. In the figure’s curled

  fingers sat a small glass orb, still faintly pulsing with green light.

  Petunia hesitated, then reached out. The moment her fingers brushed the orb, it flared

  to life—casting a soft, steady glow that filled the room with eerie green shadows.

  “It’s... warm,” she said, surprised. “Some kind of wizard lantern?” asked Lucille.

  Eustace peered closely. “This is amazing! I knew magic existed. It’s definitely enchanted.

  Look—there’s a rune etched along the base. I think it’s reacting to the book.”

  The orb floated gently from her palm, hovering shoulder-height, bobbing along beside them like a loyal firefly.

  In a rare moment of kindness Petunia gave it to Eustace. “Here Eustace.. you keep it. You're the magician.” said Petunia

  “He smiled, “ Thanks, this will come in handy for us!

  Letters and diagrams were pinned to cork boards: Notes on “Dimensional Veil Weakening,”

  “Heart Energy Transference,” “Cemetery Leylines.” A sketch of the very

  mausoleum Petunia had dreamed about, marked with strange glyphs.

  "This was his lab," said Percival. "He was studying... something huge."

  “And I think he succeeded,” said Petunia. She pointed to a map. The.. other world..

  Prominently displayed on the wall was a hastily written note.

  I have opened the portal. May the worthy find it and save us.

  “Look! There’s a WM on the mausoleum map . It must be in there, that’s

  where the portal is.” said Petunia

  “How do you know?”

  “I saw it in my dreams.” Petunia confessed.

  “Me too!” said Eustace

  “ Look, this book says the Malshams have owned Westborough for decades. There are two brothers, William and Sylvester. Their father died recently.” Said Percival

  “Anything else?”

  “No, it's just a history book of the Malsham family: Baron Hebblethwaite of Pickle Fen, Baron Fribble Snortling-Vane and Baron Lumpwick of the Unfortunate Mustache.”

  “Ok we're done here, we meet in several hours. The cemetery is a long walk from the soda shop. Well start from there. See you soon. 6 o'clock on the spit spot”

  “Glory to Westborough.” They whispered.