August’s eyes fluttered open, but he was immediately engulfed in darkness. His body was crammed into a tight space, the air thick and musty, pressing against him like a heavy blanket. He tried to move, but his limbs were stiff, pinned by the walls of the narrow box.

His breathing quickened, and he began to pound against the confines with his fists, the wood creaking after each blow. Was this another nightmare? The tight space was suffocating, and his own ragged breaths echoed around him.

August could hear muffled voices filtered through the wood, distant but growing louder. He stopped his assault and strained to hear them over the pounding of his own heart.

“Did you hear that?” one voice asked, rough and low.

“Yeah, sounds like that one’s a little too fresh,” another voice replied, higher-pitched, almost raspy.

There was a pause, followed by the sound of something being dragged across the ground, then a loud thud as something heavy hit the wood above August’s head. The thudding repeated, rhythmically, each blow causing the coffin to shudder, raining down dust into his eyes.

“Hold on,” the first voice said. “We’re getting you out...”

The blows became more intense, and finally, the wood splintered, allowing a sliver of light to seep in. August gasped, inhaling the fresher air as the hole widened. Within moments, the lid of the coffin was pried off completely, and August blinked against the sudden brightness, his eyes adjusting to the dim light of an oil lantern held above him.

Two figures peered down at him, their faces illuminated by the flickering flame. The one holding the lantern was tall and thin, with greasy black hair that hung in long strands around his face. His eyes were sharp and narrow, giving him a rat-like appearance. The other was shorter and stockier, with a wide grin that revealed a set of yellow, crooked teeth. His hair was an unruly mess, and his eyes had a mischievous glint.

“Welcome back to the land of the living,” the taller one said, offering August a hand. “Name’s Riss. This here’s Wurm.”

August took the hand, allowing Riss to help him out of the coffin. His legs wobbled as he stood, but he steadied himself, taking in his surroundings. They were in a small, damp chamber, the walls lined with stone slabs that held other coffins, some broken and empty. It was clear they were in some kind of tomb.

Wurm chuckled, dusting off his hands. “What were you doing in there, kid? Not every day we find someone alive down here.”

August shuddered, the reality of his situation finally sinking in. “I… I don’t know,” he admitted. “I woke up here. The last thing I remember was…”

His voice trailed off as he recalled the portal, the Gossamir, and the bright light. He had stepped through the doorway to the Elsewilds, but how he ended up in a coffin was beyond him.

“Where am I?” August asked, his voice still shaky.

Riss and Wurm exchanged glances. “You’re in the crypts of Old Barrrow,” Riss replied. “Not the most welcoming of places, but it’s where we find our treasures.”

“Or what’s left of them,” Wurm added with a smirk.

“Do you know anything about a Malgarii named Finian?” August asked, the urgency in his voice surprising even him. “I need to find him.”

Riss raised an eyebrow, his expression turning serious. “Malgarii? They’re rare in these parts. But if there’s one around, he’d probably be at the Great Library.”

“The Great Library?” August repeated.

“It’s a city made of books,” Wurm explained. “Ancient, magical tomes, stacked high as the eye can see. It’s not too far north from here, but getting in is another matter. You’ll need a special coin to gain entrance.”

August’s heart sank. “A coin? Where do I get one?”

Riss shrugged. “Not easy to come by. Most folks trade something valuable for it. Got anything worth trading?”

If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

August rummaged through his backpack, which, to his relief, had somehow made the journey with him. He pulled out a pack of gum, its bright packaging catching the light of the lantern. He held it out to Riss and Wurm, unsure if they would even recognize it.

Wurm squinted at the gum, then looked up at August with a puzzled expression. “What’s this?”

“It’s… gum,” August said, feeling a bit foolish. “You chew it. It tastes good, like… a candy.”

Riss took the pack, examining it closely. He peeled back the wrapper and pulled out a piece, sniffing it cautiously. “You’re telling me this tiny thing is worth something?”

August nodded, trying to muster confidence. “It’s really rare. I bet no one else around here has anything like it.”

Wurm leaned in, eyeing the gum with curiosity. “How do you eat it?”

“You don’t eat it,” August explained. “You chew it, and then when the flavor’s gone, you spit it out.”

Riss and Wurm exchanged glances again, then removing it from the foil, Riss popped the piece of gum into his mouth. He chewed slowly, his eyes widening as the flavor hit his taste buds.

“Hey, this isn’t half bad,” he said, his earlier skepticism melting away.

Wurm quickly took a piece for himself, chewing it with an expression of delight. “Alright, kid,” he said, nodding in approval. “This’ll do.”

Riss reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, intricately carved coin. It was made of a strange yellow metal that shimmered in the light, its surface etched with runes that seemed to shift and change as August looked at them.

“This is your ticket into the Great Library,” Riss said, handing the coin to August. “But be careful. The librarians there are… particular about who they let in.”

“Yeah, and now with the Host of Many in charge, it’s gotten even more strict,” added Wurm.

“Thanks,” August said, slipping the coin into his pocket. “I really appreciate it.”

Wurm clapped him on the back, nearly knocking him off balance. “No problem, kid. You got lucky we found you when we did. Who knows what would’ve happened if you’d been stuck in there any longer.”

Riss nodded in agreement. “We’re heading toward the Great Library ourselves. Got a few things to trade in, so you’re welcome to ride with us.”

August hesitated for a moment, but the thought of venturing out alone in this strange new world was far more daunting than trusting these two odd grave robbers. “Alright,” he said. “Thank you.”

Riss and Wurm led him out of the crypts, and August was relieved to leave the dark, cramped tomb behind. Making their way up stone steps covered in twisting vines, the daylight hit him. It was beautiful. Bright blue skies, and mountains in the distance. Neaby, a battered cart awaited them, hitched to a tired-looking mule. The cart was piled high with bones, some of which were clearly human, others belonging to creatures August couldn’t identify.

“Hop in,” Wurm said, gesturing to the cart.

August climbed onto the cart, settling himself among the bones as best as he could. The cart creaked under their weight as Riss took the reins, and with a flick of his wrist, the mule began to move, pulling them slowly up the cobblestone road that wound its way through the grassy landscape.

The world around them was like from a storybook, the sky warm and inviting. The road was lined with green trees. In the distance, August could see the faint outline of a towering structure—an enormous crooked spire that seemed to touch the clouds.

“That’s the Great Library,” Riss said, noticing August’s gaze. “It’s a place of knowledge, power, and secrets. If your Malgarii friend is anywhere, he’ll be there.”

Wurm nodded in agreement. “But remember, kid, the librarians aren’t like us. They don’t take kindly to those who don’t respect their rules. Keep your head down, and don’t draw too much attention to yourself.”

Wurm looked back from the front of the car, “Say, what’s your name, and how’d you come to be trapped down there?”

“My name is August. I’m not from around here. And… I don’t really know.”

Wurm lifted his eyebrows with a brown, accepting the answer, and turned back around. “Fair enough.”

August nodded, clutching the coin in his pocket. The ride was slow and bumpy, the cart jolting with every uneven stone in the road. But as they drew closer to the Great Library, August’s determination solidified. He had to find Finian, had to figure out why he was brought here, and what he needed to do next. He could feel Hazel in his jacket pocket, moving around restlessly. August was sure he should keep her a secret—for now.

As they continued up the road, the spire of the Great Library loomed ever larger, its sheer size becoming more apparent with every passing moment. August could make out the details now—the walls made of countless books stacked together, their spines forming an impenetrable barrier. The air around them grew thick with the scent of old parchment and ink, the very atmosphere tinged with the weight of centuries of knowledge.

Riss pulled the cart to a stop as they reached the base of the spire, where a large archway marked the entrance. The doors were made of ancient wood, carved with intricate patterns that seemed to tell stories of their own.

“This is where we part ways, kid,” Wurm said, hopping off the cart and giving August a nod. “Good luck in there. You’re going to need it.”

“Thanks,” August said, sliding off the cart. He looked up at the massive doors. With the coin in his hand, he stepped forward, ready to face whatever awaited him within the Great Library.