“Or we need a better excuse to stay out of Mr. McAllister’s sight,” muttered Cass, eyes still glued to the screen. Enter Fitwi, the academy’s resident “creature”—a small, owl‑like being that the school’s biology club kept in the greenhouse as a pet. Fitwi had iridescent feathers, a pair of luminous eyes, and a habit of perching on anyone who needed a little extra luck. It had a reputation for showing up exactly when a mystery was about to be solved.
Fitwi swooped in through the open window, landing on Sawyer’s shoulder. Its beak clicked, and a soft, melodic chirp resonated through the hallway, matching the hum Sawyer had heard earlier.
The woman smiled, a faint twinkle in her eye. “I’m not the principal you think I am. I’m the guardian of the library, appointed by the founder himself. My name is Evelyn McAllister. My great‑grandfather, Harold ‘Perv’ McAllister, kept the secret to protect the academy’s history. He told me the day I was born that the library would open only for those pure of curiosity, not for greed.”
Fitwi fluttered forward, pecking at the floorboards. One of them gave a faint click, and a hidden panel slid aside, revealing a stone slab with six depressions. PervPrincipal 24 06 25 Sawyer Cassidy And Fitwi...
Cass quickly pulled up the school’s old bell schedule. “Look at the class periods for the past six days: 1️⃣ Math, 2️⃣ English, 3️⃣ History, 4️⃣ Science, 5️⃣ Art, 6️⃣ Physical Education. The Latin words we saw correspond to the first letters of each subject: A pertus (Art), V ia (Science— via in Latin can also mean ‘road’ or ‘way’, but we’ll stretch it), C ustodia (Physical Education—the ‘guard’ of the body). Hmm… maybe the order is the subjects that start with those letters?”
“It’s a clue!” Sawyer whispered. “The library is guarded, but the key to opening it is… a path?”
“Whoa,” breathed Cassidy, her fingers flying across the keyboard. “That’s not on any of the floor plans. Someone’s been here before.” “Or we need a better excuse to stay out of Mr
“Did you hear that?” Sawyer whispered, leaning close enough that only she could hear over the whir of the HVAC.
And every now and then—on a night when the moon was full and the wind sang through the ivy—Fitwi would return, perched on the highest window, its eyes glowing like twin lanterns, reminding Sawyer, Cassidy, and anyone who cared to listen that curiosity, when guided by integrity, could unlock doors no one else could even see.
Sawyer’s heart raced. “We need to know what’s down there.” Fitwi had iridescent feathers, a pair of luminous
Evelyn placed a gentle hand on the diary. “You may read one page. The rest will remain hidden until the academy needs it most.”
Cass’s eyes flicked up. “I’ve got the security feed on loop. Nothing unusual. But my code’s picking up a low‑frequency pulse on channel three. Something’s transmitting… maybe a hidden device?”
Principal Harold “Perv” McAllister—so nicknamed in the hallways for his penchant for asking oddly personal questions—was the only adult who knew the exact location of the library’s hidden door. He guarded the information jealously, promising severe punishment to anyone who tried to pry it open. That promise, however, was about to be tested. Sawyer Quinn, a lanky sophomore with a talent for lock‑picking and a love for riddles, was the first to notice something odd on the morning of June 24. A faint humming, almost like a distant choir, drifted through the hallway outside the chemistry lab. He paused, listening. The sound was rhythmic, like a ticking clock—only it seemed to come from somewhere above the ceiling tiles.
But something else caught Sawyer’s eye: a leather‑bound diary, its cover stamped with the academy’s crest and the words . He reached for it, but the moment his fingers brushed the leather, a soft voice echoed through the room.