Navigating the corridors of Prometheus Academy now that the school year was in full swing was a radically different experience than navigating them during first-year orientation.

The halls, once echoing and empty, now bustled with activity. Upperclassmen strode past Max, their steps confident and purposeful. To the degree they noticed Max at all, their eyes only briefly flicked to the insignia on his chest, their gaze quickly moving on after recognizing him as a lowly first-year, unworthy of further attention. Theirs was the indifference of the prom queen passing a pimple-faced nerd in the hall, the apathy of the proud lion padding by an inconsequential mouse. Being ignored suited Max just fine; he preferred to move unnoticed, a shadow among the throngs of students. Perhaps because there were so many of them, no robot or servitor stopped him to challenge his right as a first year to move about the castle unchaperoned.

As Max observed the upperclassmen, he had to admit he admired their swaggering self-confidence, something almost all of the first years lacked. The upperclassmen’s body language spoke louder than words, as if saying I’m the best, I know I’m the best, and I’ll knock your block off if you suggest otherwise. Max wondered if he would eventually adopt similar cocksureness.

Not that I’ll be here long enough to find out, he swore.

Despite his renewed vow to ditch this place, Max couldn’t help but admit anew how impressive the castle was as he threaded his way through it. Its mixture of ancient stone and sleek technology never ceased to amaze him. It was like walking through a time warp, where centuries-old architecture met cutting-edge innovation in a strange but seamless marriage.

Max’s course was set for the school’s library. He had never been there before, his knowledge of its location coming from an orientation week tour led by a third-year student. With a vague wave toward a dimly lit, dead-end corridor, she had casually remarked, “The school’s library is down there.” Something about that shadowy hallway and the area around it had unnerved the first-year students, and their discomfort was mirrored on their tour guide’s face as she quickly ushered them away. “Most things you need to know can be accessed through the school’s computer database. But if you can’t find what you’re looking for there, check the library. If information exists anywhere in the world, it exists in the library.”

After seeing that enigmatic symbol in the shadow realm during his encounter with Mirrorkin, Max had searched the computer database for the symbol. He had come up empty, and the demands of school life had prevented him from investigating the matter further. However, witnessing the same cryptic symbol manifest again during his Gadgetry class had reignited his curiosity, pushing the need to uncover its meaning to the forefront of his mind. Some blind instinct was telling him the symbol and the inhuman face it had morphed into were really, really important.

Each step toward the library took Max deeper into the castle’s labyrinth. The number of upperclassmen in the halls thinned, then ceased altogether. This part of the castle was not visited often. Max could understand why. The creepy feeling he had felt during the orientation tour was back with a vengeance, even stronger now that he wasn’t in the comforting presence of a group, surrounded by other students. It was as if unseen and unfriendly eyes were watching, silently willing him to go away. It was unnerving.

Despite this, he pressed on. If Malik’s death threats, Molly’s sneak attacks, and poltergeists couldn’t stop him, a serious case of the willies wouldn’t.

Finally, he turned down the hallway the third-year tour guide had pointed toward. He froze mid-way down it, afraid to go further.

At the end of the hall towered double doors adorned with intricate carvings depicting battle scenes, mythical creatures, and figures of lore, all intertwined with writhing green vines and flickering holographic runes. The doors pulsed with energy, expanding and contracting slightly as if they were breathing. They emitted a subtle hum, a vibration that Max not only heard, but felt.

But the doors weren’t the reason why Max had frozen in fear.

Crouched before the doors like a massive guard dog was a figure blending the ancient and the futuristic in a way that was quintessentially Prometheus. It was part stone gargoyle, part machine, with glowing eyes that flickered with a spectral light. Its rough-hewn cracked-stone surface, etched with archaic symbols, contrasted sharply with the sleek, metallic components that whirred and clicked beneath. The creature’s eyes—a piercing, luminous blue—seemed to hold a depth of ancient knowledge, flickering with an intelligence that was both eerie and fascinating. Those intelligent eyes indicated the monster, despite its mechanical components, was very much alive. Every slight movement of its massive form was accompanied by a symphony of stone grinding against metal, a sound that resonated through the silent corridor.

The gargoyle’s huge wings unfurled as Max stared at it, spanning the width of the double doors, barring entry. The gargoyle’s giant head moved ponderously, orienting toward him, its glowing eyes staring down at him.

Max’s insides quaked at the sight of the mechanized stone monster and its sharp fangs, but he was too stubborn to turn back now. Screwing up his courage, he advanced a few more steps. He stopped well outside of what he hoped was the gargoyle’s leaping range, ready to shadow hop to safety if the gargoyle made a false move.

Now that he was here, Max didn’t know what to do or say. What’s a nice ‘goyle like you doing in a place like this? seemed too flippant.

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The matter was taken from his hands when the gargoyle’s mouth moved. A deep, resonant voice echoed in the corridor:

“Seeker of knowledge, before you lies the gateway to untold secrets. But entry is not granted lightly. Answer my riddles three to prove your worth.”

If the cat had gotten Max’s tongue, the gargoyle’s strange demand retrieved it from the felonious feline. He frowned.

“Why do I need to answer a riddle?” Max asked. The fact he was more taken aback by riddles than he was by a talking gargoyle said a lot about how acclimated he had gotten to Prometheus Academy’s absurdities. “Can’t I just go in?”

The gargoyle’s eyes glowed brighter as it spoke.

“Knowledge is power, and power must be earned. The ability to solve problems, to think critically, to see beyond the obvious . . . these are qualities this academy cultivates and rewards. If you don’t have the wit to answer my riddles three, you do not have the wit to use the knowledge lying behind these doors.

“Here is your first riddle: When you take me out of a window, you leave a grieving wife. When you stick me in a door, you will save somebody’s life. What am I?

“Your answer, seeker?”

Max thought hard, repeating the words in his mind. When you take me out of a window, you leave a grieving wife. When you stick me in a door, you will save somebody’s life.

It took him a few moments, but then it clicked.

“Take away the letter N in ‘window,’ and you’re left with a widow,” he said. “A grieving wife. Add an N to ‘door,’ and you get donor. Someone who can save another’s life. The answer is the letter N.”

The gargoyle’s eyes flashed. “Correct. Here is your next challenge:

“An ant is richer than a chair, a wolf is poorer than a bee, a man’s no different than a monkey. But all are above me. What am I?”

Max’s mind raced to solve the new riddle, his eyes narrowing in concentration as he parsed each line. He mulled over each phrase, seeking a common thread.

Then it struck him. The answer was elegantly simple, hidden in plain sight, right where he was looking down. Max looked up, his gaze meeting the glowing eyes of the gargoyle.

“The answer is legs,” he said confidently. “An ant has more legs than a chair, a wolf has fewer legs than a bee, a man and a monkey have the same number of legs. And all these creatures and things are above their legs.”

The gargoyle’s eyes shimmered with a new light, acknowledging the correct answer. “You have proven your wit once more, seeker. Now, for your final challenge:

“Made on a star, and extinguished flames. A dream of the heart, and a hope proclaimed.”

The rhyme seemed like complete nonsense, and Max nearly told the gargoyle so. But he stopped himself. Strange how being confronted by a stony mechanical monster that could squash you like a grape made you mind your tongue.

He forced his mind to mull over the seemingly nonsensical rhyme. Due to the riddle’s mention of stars, he first focused on celestial bodies. He thought of the sun (the closest star to Earth), meteors (shooting stars), and even supernovas. What things were made on them? Light, heat, radiation? Nothing Max could think of made sense. He couldn’t make heads or tails of the extinguished flames part, either.

He shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of the gargoyle’s gaze upon him. The hallway was silent except for the hum of the doors.

A dream of the heart, and a hope proclaimed. The second part of the riddle echoed in his mind, nudging at a memory, something distant yet familiar. A lyric from a song, maybe?

Then he remembered. The riddle reminded Max of the title of a song from the Disney movie Cinderella. “A Dream Is a Wish Your Heart Makes.”

With the remembrance, realization hit him like a bolt of lightning. The pieces fell into place.

“A wish!” Max exclaimed, a mix of relief and triumph in his voice. “You make a wish on a star, and you make a wish on cake candles by blowing them out, extinguishing their flames. A wish is a dream of the heart, a hope proclaimed. The answer is a wish.”

The gargoyle’s eyes glowed warmly, their light flickering in a way that seemed almost approving.

“Correct, seeker. Your wit has earned you entry to the library.”

The gargoyle’s wings ponderously folded, and it stepped out of the way, its heavy footfalls making the ground shudder. With a grinding sound that reverberated down the corridor, the immense doors slowly began to open, exposing a blinding white glow that made Max squint.

“Advance, seeker, and claim the knowledge you have won,” the gargoyle commanded.

The light streaming through the doors was so bright, Max couldn’t see what he was being urged to step into. He didn’t like blundering blindly ahead; look before you leap was a cliche for good reason.

But Max wasn’t about to turn away now, especially not after passing the gargoyle’s test.

Shielding his eyes against the light, Max stepped through the open doors. The white light erased everything around him. His entire body tingled, like tiny insects were crawling on and under his skin.

The tingling stopped, and the brightness faded. When Max’s eyes finally adjusted, he was confronted by a familiar scene. It took his breath away.

He was in the one-room Rebel County, Mississippi public library he had spent so much time in back home. The small, dilapidated building was just as he remembered it: worn carpet, mismatched chairs, and bookshelves crammed with dog-eared books. Trash cans strategically placed around the room caught water dripping from the leaky roof when it rained, with large sheets of plastic draped over entire shelves to protect books from other leaks. In the corner was a beanbag chair, patched liberally with duct tape. Max had whiled away many an hour lounging there, engrossed in a book, transported by the magic of words far away from the constraints of Rebel County.

The ill-funded library had never looked so beautiful. To Max’s hungry eyes, it might as well have been the Library of Congress or the Great Library of Alexandria. This place was home in a way the trailer he shared with his half-brother Ben had never been.

Max’s heart leaped with excitement. Had he somehow been transported back to Mississippi? Was he finally free from Villains Island? And all he had to do was answer some riddles? Was it really that simple? The thought was so tantalizing, he almost didn’t want to question it. Maybe it was better not to look a gift horse—or gargoyle—in the mouth.

But as he spun around, drinking in the familiar sights and smells, the euphoria faded, replaced by a creeping sense of unease.

Something was off.

The musty smell of old books and mold was there, as was the creaking of the building’s antediluvian radiator. Max’s every sense probed more carefully. The details were all correct, but something was different. Something big.

His gaze swept the room again and again, searching for what felt wrong.

Then the obvious hit him.

There were no doors. No front main entrance, no back emergency exit, just solid walls where the doors should have been.

Plus, there was no sign of the double doors he had walked through to get here from Prometheus Academy.

A cold shiver ran down Max’s spine.

He was trapped.