Rovender brought his lantern close to the arch. Eva realized it was a pair of large closed doors, encrusted with ancient dirt and grime. Even though one of the doors was still half-buried in the sediment, there was something written on it that was familiar to her.

She wiped the dirt away from the exposed door with the sleeve of her tunic. In perfectly preserved printing, it said:

NEW YORK PUBLIC LIBRARY

RARE PRINTED BOOKS & ARCHIVES VAULT

CHAPTER 42: WONDLA

With great force Rovender Kitt pushed the time-forgotten door open. A dank, musty smell greeted the explorers as they peered into the pitch-black room. Rovender nodded, then went in. Eva followed and found herself in an expansive round room.

She looked up at the disintegrating architecture before her. A vaulted ceiling, supported by brick and stone, still stood in the windowless open-floored dome. Rising high above Eva, multiple floors ringed the dark vault. Each floor was fully lined with shelving, which in turn was crammed full of tomes from long ago. Brown decrepit books of every shape and size were lying about, some fallen in blocky heaps from their ancient perches, others displayed—like large yellow butterflies and moths—under cracked glass cases. Eva walked into the center of the great library, hearing only her breathing and footfalls in the forlorn silence.

“No one has been here for a long, long time,” Rovender said, his voice reverberating throughout the large domed chamber. Grandiose tables with dilapidated chairs stood in rows at the center of the dusty floor. Many parts of the tables had been devoured by insects and had disintegrated to sawdust . . . and yet, other tables stood, firm and strong against the ravages of time. “Do you think Mother figured out what was in here that would help you?” he whispered.

“I don’t know,” Eva said. She tried not to think of Muthr.

“What are these things that this houses, Eva?” Rovender picked up a crumbling tome. He handed it to her.

“These are books,” Eva said as the yellowed bits of paper flaked away in her hands to rest on the floor. “It’s what humans used to put all of their writing in long ago.”

Rovender blinked in astonishment as he took in the enormous room. “Then, this is a bank. All the ancient knowledge of your kind is housed here. Is that correct?”

“I don’t know,” Eva said as she put the remnants of the book down on a table. “I’ve never read one of these before. We didn’t have them in the Sanctuary. They’re old. They don’t contain holos or any other interactive elements.”

“So they are of no use?” Rovender picked up the book again. Its cardboard cover separated from the rest of the book; the glue holding it together had disintegrated long ago. He squinted at the cover as he rubbed the dust from it. Its size and shape felt . . . familiar.