So all this was meant for her. This was somewhat alarming. Was it a trap? But she reasoned that if anyone—for example, someone in a bowler hat—were trying to harm her, there wouldn’t have been any pillows. So she lit another match, unscrewed the lantern’s lid, and touched flame to wick.

Now there was considerably more light. She put the lantern’s lid back on and stood, taking the light up by its handle, to have a look around.

She was standing in an old, musty stone vault. It looked a bit like a reading room from the library. But here, everything was covered in thick dust, and the bookshelves casting flickering shadows in the lamplight were all utterly barren. There was a Help Desk, but it was unoccupied. The only interruption in the heavy dust was a set of footprints, from bare feet. They entered the vault from an archway at one end, circled the pillows a few times, then left the way they had come. Besides this barefoot person, it seemed no one else had been in this part of the library for a long, long time.

It was quite obvious to Lenora that the footprints belonged to whoever had left her a safe landing spot and equipment to see by, and so must be a friend. Lacking anything better to do, she stepped off the pillows and followed the trail, her lantern casting weird shadows and her shoes kicking up puffs of dust. Her footsteps, echoing around the walls, were the only sound to be heard.

Past the archway, she entered a dusty, deserted hallway. On either side were open doorways. It seemed that these ought to lead into different sections of the library, and indeed, they had signs above their doors. But the signs were blank, and inside the rooms, the shelves were empty.

Lenora noticed it was getting darker and looked at her lantern. The wick was lower than it had been before. But there was a lever on the side of the lantern, and turning it raised the wick. Everything was brighter now, but she could not help but wonder how much wick and fuel she had. She did not want to be trapped in this place in complete darkness.

She looked for the footprint trail and realized it was gone. She turned around and could not see it. How was that possible? The hallway was nothing but a straight line. But somehow, the footprints had vanished.

There was nothing to do but hurry forward.

Section after section passed by, none of them with names. Then Lenora stopped. She’d come to the first doorway with words chiseled above it: MINOAN LITERATURE.

Despite her desire to escape, Lenora couldn’t help herself. She peeped inside.

These shelves were not empty but filled with row after row of clay tablets. She walked along, peering at them. They were covered in writing that she could not decipher.