And then, quite suddenly, they had reached the center of the spiral. The walls of shelves drew together and then ended at a thin, empty wall, about as wide as Eleanor’s shoulders.

“This seems to be the end of the road,” the hedgewitch said with a note of doubt in her voice. Eleanor frowned. There should have been something here.

novels with songs in them, the final section on the left read. On the right was disappointing endings. Neither one seemed particularly forbidden, and neither contained the Stories they were looking for.

“It’s a dead end,” Pip said, frustrated.

“Hold on,” Eleanor said. That little sense inside her was insisting that she keep going. She followed that tug, that glimmer, drawing closer to the blank wall at the end of the spiral.

There was a tiny golden sign affixed to the center of the wall, a little bit above her head. It read authorized personnel only.

“A hidden door?” Otto suggested.

“Maybe,” Eleanor said. She reached out her hand and put her palm against the wall. There was nothing on the other side; she was certain of it. But there was something strange about this spot.

She could sense the way forward, but something was blocking her. She was not authorized personnel.

“But I am the world-walker,” she muttered. All ways were open to her. She shut her eyes and focused. Let me through.

There was one last hitch of resistance, and then—

“Are you going to do anything?” Pip asked, impatient. She was shifting from foot to foot, clearly eager to get moving again.

“I thought I did,” Eleanor said. But they were still standing in the same spot, with the same shelves looming around them.

Except they weren’t the same shelves. They weren’t the same books. The categories had changed. One looming shelf contained a half-dozen categories of curses, ranked by severity. On the other side were failed saints. The books had an odd kind of shivering, humming presence to them. As if they were alive. As if they were breathing.

Even the sign on the wall had changed. Instead of authorized personnel only, it now read public collection, with a little arrow to point forward.

“We aren’t in the same spiral,” Otto said in wonder.

“And I don’t think we’re supposed to be here, so we should hurry,” Eleanor said.

“Where do we go?” Otto asked.

“There’s only one way to go,” Pip pointed out, nodding back the way they had come. They traipsed off again, though with a touch more caution this time. The books seemed to watch them as they went, rustling among themselves. Eleanor kept close to Pip, and to Gloaming. The hedgewitch studied the titles of the books.

“I wouldn’t touch these,” she said, after leaning in close to examine a fat black tome with red ribbons dangling from it. “They don’t seem well contained.”