Silas sat on his bed, head buried in his hands. Images of Elena tied to a chair, bruised and terrified, replayed endlessly in his mind. His chest tightened with a mix of anger and helplessness, a tight knot of fear that refused to loosen. He wanted to scream, to punch something, but he knew there was no time for that now. Every second wasted could cost Elena everything.

  A sharp buzz cut through the silence. Silas grabbed his phone and read the message:

  "Find the secret room in the School Library. There you will find your third task. Be there by midnight. I am always watching."

  He stared at the screen for a solid five minutes. However, time wasn't what he had. It was already 11:30. If he had to be there by midnight, he could not waste anymore time.

  Silas stuffed a lockpick into his pocket, grabbed a flashlight, and pulled his hoodie over his head. The familiar weight of the hoodie felt like armor as he left his apartment. The streets were empty, quiet except for the faint hum of distant traffic. Every step was calculated, silent. Six minutes later, he scaled the school gates with a practiced flick of his legs and landed softly on the grounds. Twenty-four minutes remained.

  The library doors loomed ahead. Silas approached cautiously, scanning for surveillance or unexpected visitors. Nothing moved. He pushed the doors open and was immediately hit by the scent of old paper, dust, and the faint tinge of polished wood. The smell was oddly comforting, but he pushed the thought aside. He wasn’t here to browse.

  At the back of the library, five adjacent bookshelves stood side by side. Each of the first four had brass plates, faintly etched with words that caught the dim light. Silas’s pulse quickened.

  He crouched slightly, reading the first plate:

  “I am the art of shadows and stolen things.

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  Find me where rogues and liars are crowned.”

  His mind raced through his literary knowledge. Shadows. Thieves. Rogues. There was only one book that fit perfectly. Among Thieves. He plucked it from the shelf and set it aside mentally—it would be the first push.

  The second shelf’s riddle:

  “I am master of minutes, ruler of hours.

  I march forward, never back.”

  Time. The phrase “march forward, never back” made it clear. Only one book jumped to mind. A Wrinkle in Time.

  Third:

  “I burn without wood, I move without legs,

  I destroy and I renew.”

  His eyes scanned the shelves. Fire. Destruction and renewal. The only book he could think of was Fahrenheit 451.

  Fourth:

  “I can be solved, told, or kept.

  I hide truth behind words.”

  A secret. There was only one. The Secret Garden.

  Silas exhaled slowly. Each riddle had matched a book perfectly. His fingers itched to start, but he forced himself to take a moment, scanning the library for any sign of movement. Shadows stretched across the shelves, but the library appeared empty. He wasn’t alone, though. He could feel it—the faint sense of being watched, as if eyes tracked him from every corner.

  He turned to the fifth bookshelf. The brass plate there had no riddle. It read simply: “The answer lies here.”

  Silas’s gaze flicked across the shelf. There they were—the four books he had identified from the riddles:

  Time was slipping. Heart pounding, he pushed Among Thieves first. A satisfying click echoed softly. Next, A Wrinkle in Time slid inward, followed by Fahrenheit 451. He could feel the subtle vibration of the shelf shifting beneath his hands. Finally, he pushed The Secret Garden.

  The entire unit groaned as metal scraped wood, dust falling from the top in motes that shimmered in the flashlight beam. Slowly, the bookshelf slid aside, revealing a narrow, dark trapdoor beneath. The faint scent of damp stone wafted up from below.

  Silas swallowed hard, his mind racing. The third task awaited him below. He could hear his own breathing, loud in the quiet library. Somewhere in the shadows, he knew he was being watched. Someone—or something—was waiting.

  He crouched, fingers brushing the edge of the trapdoor. A mix of fear and adrenaline surged through him. One step at a time, he would descend into the unknown. The library around him felt alive, watching, waiting for him to make a mistake.

  Silas tightened his grip on the flashlight, and lifted the trapdoor. Darkness yawned below. He slid inside, the weight of what awaited pressing down on him.