Chapter 8
Arthur and I simultaneously reach for each other’s hand, and we head to one of the open graves, without speaking a word. We know that’s the one, without knowing why.
I am not ready to leap in but when we’re no more than a foot away the grave swallows us, luring us into the narrow tunnel snaking within its intestines.
The darkness is thick and damp, and the walls of the tunnel are covered in what feels as moss to the touch. A light current of air wraps around our bodies, whispering hollow words which echo in the enclosed space.
As the tunnel twists in an indefinite number of circles, I lose count of the steps, turns and minutes we’ve walked for.
The walls narrow around us as we push forward, our bodies covered in cold sweat. I feel dizzy. I tighten my grip on Arthur’s hand, he replies with a squeeze. We shiver, our hands mingled in fear.
And yet we’ve come too far to turn back just now.
I need to know what’s at the bottom of the tunnel. I need to find my answers. I move my feet in blind determination, till I am numb to the cold, the fear, the unbreathable air. At this point I could proceed forever, or collapse without realizing I’ve reached my end.
I am close to collapsing but I don’t.
Instead, suddenly, the tunnel broadens and the air thins and the coldness subsides. Darkness dissipates into a dim, yellowish light, revealing a small wooden door, very old, and yet perfectly polished.
Arthur looks at me, and I return his look with a smile, turning the knob of the door. It yields with the slightest squeak, and a library appears before us.