“Push!” Elvira wheezed. “Malinka — the table leg! Use it as as a brace!”
I dashed deeper into the hall, snatched the broken leg, and jammed it under the door handle. At that exact second, another blow slammed into the door from the other side. It jerked so violently I nearly face-planted.
Bang.
Another.
The wood groaned like it regretted existing. Dust drifted from the ceiling. The floor shuddered beneath us. This was no longer “someone trying to get in.” The gargoyle was hitting it as if it meant to bring down the entire floor.
“Excellent,” Finn panted. “Officially trapped. We die here. On the bright side, we’ll match the décor.”
A dry crack sounded from beyond the door — not wood. Stone. The wall to the right split faintly.
“It’s too big for the doorway, right?” I said, attempting optimism. “It physically cannot fit.”
Another impact struck the door. The left hinge gave a pitiful snap. The door twisted in its frame, and a narrow gap appeared between wood and jamb. Through that gap, slowly, with a revolting grind, a stone claw pushed inside.
I swallowed.
“Teleport?” I tried.
“Archmages only!” Finn barked, bracing his shoulder against the door.
“What about Weil then—”
“Through an artefact! Forget teleportation!”
The gargoyle roared outside, the sound stuffing my ears with pressure. The claw jerked, widening the gap.
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“This is the sealed wing!” Finn shouted. “No one comes here! We’ll vanish! No one will look for us here for years!”
“No, wait!” I blurted. “I saw Mannik Talvan here the other day! He’ll—”
Elvira spun on me.
“Mannik? Why would he be here? Staff haven’t been in this wing for ages.”
“How do you know that?”
She hesitated.
“I know enough,” she muttered.
Finn turned on her, because clearly this was the moment for relationship discussions.
“How many times you’ve been here before?! Without me? You are my partner!”
“Lab partners,” she snapped. “I had my reasons!”
“What reasons?”
Another crash. The second hinge splintered.
“I’m not doing this now,” she said sharply. “I needed the entrance to catacombs! That’s all.”
Behind us: imminent death. Between us: academic drama. Another crash. The second hinge splintered, the door sagged further.
“The wardrobe!” I shouted. “Block it!”
We charged the enormous wardrobe like three highly unqualified removal men. It weighed approximately as much as the problem outside. I grabbed the edge, Finn braced his shoulder, Elvira pushed from the side.
Push.
Nothing.
Another crash. The door warped inward. Another claw forced through further.
“Harder!” Finn roared.
We shoved again. Our boots slipped in the stone dust. My back screamed. The wardrobe finally shifted. With a screech against the floor, it dragged slowly aside.
And then Elvira froze.
“Wait—”
“Not the time!” I hissed.
“No, look!”
She crouched where the wardrobe had stood. I darted to her — and saw it: a tiny door. Waist-high. Utterly absurd.
“What is that, a passage for house spirits?” I breathed.
“Most likely,” Elvira nodded. “Castle spirits. They used to maintain castle. Cleaning, repairs…”
Another slam. The wardrobe jumped.
“Will we fit?” Finn asked, eyeing it like it was a coffin with poor ventilation.
“Do we have a second option?” I shot back.
The paw shoved further in. Decision made. I yanked the small door open. It creaked politely, as if unaware we were seconds from becoming gargoyle paté. A narrow, dark crawlspace waited beyond.
“Marvellous,” I muttered. “Let’s die in a smaller corridor.”
“After you,” Finn said, already pushing me forward.
I squeezed through. Cold stone bit into my palms. The corridor was so tight I had to duck.
Behind me came a crack. Loud. Final. Something heavy collapsed.
I didn’t look back.
Elvira slipped in after me, Finn last. As soon as he squeezed through, another impact hit the wall — dull this time.
Then nothing.
Then silence.
The gargoyle was too large to follow. It does not, however, mean we’re safe.
