A perfectly smooth white rock with dark eyes set around the crown. Or was it a giant white mushroom? Black roots ran from the white rock-mushroom into the wing-beds.

In some ways the monster looked like a spider with six legs jutting out of a round white body. Billos blinked at the thought. He touched the knife at his waist and took another step back.

Looking at the beast, he was sure that it was indeed a massive white spider, now sleeping, but sure to waken the moment it realized that prey had fallen into its gargantuan square web.

The flat pools were its drinking source, perhaps, which left Billos as food. He’d stepped out of the green forest into a spider’s white trap! But the beast wasn’t moving, not twitching, not breathing that he could see. Did spiders breathe? He didn’t know.

The spider-beast had a tattoo stenciled under one of its eyes. Four letters: D-E-L-L.

A name?

Why would a spider have a word on its torso? Billos straightened. So then maybe it wasn’t a spider at all.

He glanced behind his shoulder again, hoping for the gateway, but saw instead what appeared to be a white door.

Without stopping to consider where the door might lead, he rushed to it, grasped the silver knob, and twisted. But the handle refused to budge.

Whirling back he let out a slow, long breath. The DELL spider—if that’s what it really was—hadn’t moved. Now that he was starting to think a little more clearly, Billos was quite sure this beast wasn’t a spider.

Since when did spiders have doors on their webs? Since when did spiders have square webs? Since when did spiders collect water in their webs?

When you enter a forbidden world created by the Books of History, that’s when, you fool.

So then it could be a spider. But there seemed to be no immediate danger, and the courage that had brought him here in the first place began to return.

Think, Billos. Just calm down and think. First things first. You must find the way out.

He searched the walls for another door. None. He tried the silver knob again, all the while keeping one eye on DELL. But the handle refused to budge.

So he carefully edged over to the large square pool of water on the wall. Still no movement, no sign of immediate threat. Facing the shiny dark pool, Billos reached out and touched the water’s surface with his index finger.

The water didn’t yield. Only then did it occur to him that this wasn’t water after all. He pressed the surface with his palm. This was a cool, hard surface, like perfectly formed black glass. The kind Thomas had taught them to make from sand.

Billos spun back, heart hammering. DELL still slept. Not a sound, not a breath of air, not the slightest movement.