The adventure book store was their home away from home.

  Their respite from the propaganda they faced every day. It was owned by the Whitmores, a lovely old couple from the Old Country. But it wouldn’t be open much longer—Baron Malsham was banning books in seven days.

  The kids arrive sweaty and tired. The building is disguised as a cozy pub-style bookstore with a tea counter, but feels like a magical haven. It had warm wood beams, soft yellow lighting, the smell of parchment and cinnamon buns, mugs of frothy ginger fizz, and old magical maps on the wall.

  “Is it locked?” said Eustace

  “Oh NO!” siad Lucille

  Percival rapped his finger on the door.

  Paula Whitmore greeted them at the door after removing several locks.

  “Come in, children. We were expecting you.”

  The children barreled through one at a time. Paula scurried to relock the door.

  The inside of Whitmore’s was a delightful mess. Stacks of books teetered like leaning towers between crooked shelves, and the whole place smelled of coffee, old parchment, and warm biscuits. Swords and spears lined the wall behind the counter—some rusty, some still sharp—and a faded banner hung above the hearth with a golden stag stitched in thread. Strange trinkets glinted in glass cases: a cracked compass that spun on its own, a tiny ship in a bottle that bobbed on invisible waves, and a candle that never melted. It felt more like a tavern from a storybook than a shop in Westborough.

  “Not... so... fast,” said Constable Brackfink. “Just doin’ a bit o’ policin’ work. Thought I’d pop in, see how the Whitmores were doin’.”

  Brackfink barged in, pushing Paula back into the store.

  He was notoriously corrupt—brought in from Liverworth personally by Baron Malsham to do his dirty work. Best to avoid him. His stained teeth and oily, combed hair made him look more like a mobster than the law.

  “Jus’ doin’ me part for the safety of Westborough, an’ all at. Any books you wanna report? Time’s runnin’ out, you know. Can’t have adventure books lollygaggin’ about.”

  “All our adventure books have already been confiscated. We’re following the Baron’s law!” Paula said nervously.

  “Oh, is that so? Well, you’d betta be,” he said with a sneer. “Oi, children. You got anything you wanna turn ova? In seven days, I won’t be so kind. One year in the clink.”

  He looked around suspiciously as everyone froze.

  “I smell adventure books, I swear.”

  "We don't have anything, your grace.”said Eustace.

  “Everythin’ seems to be in order ‘ere. ‘Ave a nice day.” He tipped over a coat rack and pushed some books on the ground. Then he grunted, adjusted his belt, and gave a yellow smile.

  “I'll be seeing you… in the clink!’

  He tipped his hat, then slammed the door. The crash startled everyone. A picture frame fell from its tack and shattered.

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  “Thank God he’s gone,” Paula muttered, locking the door tightly. “He should not be in Westborough.”

  Roger disappeared urgently into the back room. When he returned, he held a cloth-wrapped book in his hands.

  “Children,” he said gravely, “we think something bad has happened to the Baron’s brother—William.”

  The children gasped.

  “We thought the same thing!” said Percival

  “I saw him in my dream, I think.”

  “Days before he vanished, William gave us this book for safekeeping. It’s magical—one of a kind. He didn’t say much, just that it was important,” said Roger.

  Eustace examined the book with wonder. It was bound in dark leather, tied up in a bundle.

  “He told us to give it to brave adventurers. People we could trust with the fate of Westborough. Those willing to go into the unknown… make things right again—and avenge us.”

  Petunia opened the covering and pulled out a heavy gold coin with an earthen seed and thorny key engraved on it, a folded note and a map.

  Digby’s eyes went wide. “Blimey, that’s real gold?”

  Lucille gasped. “I could buy shoes that don’t squeak when I walk!”

  Petunia, trying to stay cool, muttered, “That’s buried treasure…”

  Eustace’s fingers twitched. “It’s a relic! It belongs in my satchel.”

  Percival lifted it slightly. “We split it six ways. That’s fair, right?”

  “What does the note say?” one of them asked.

  It had the letters W.M. and a warning: "Beware the weeds."

  “Look,” Percival pointed. “The book is glowing green, open it.”

  “What does the map look like?”

  “It's floating a little. Well examine it later,”said Eustace.

  Roger placed the book on a round table. All seven of them gathered close.

  “Don’t get your snot on the cover, Eustace,” scolded Petunia.

  Percival readied his broomstick—just in case.

  “Scripture of the Second World,” Petunia read, tracing her finger across the cover.

  Roger opened it.

  The first glowing words appeared:

  Greetings to all who read these words. Do you require knowledge? Then take this book, and the world is yours.

  “We’ve never seen it write words before. It must’ve been waiting for you,” said Paula.

  “Step aside! I’m the expert here. I’m a level two wizard, you know. Ah yes… magicus bookus,” said Eustace proudly.

  Petunia rolled her eyes.

  “As I was saying,” Eustace continued, flipping pages in his Castle and Wyrms manual, “The coin may be a portal activator. After the ritual, it opens a portal—just once—when you’re ready.”

  Suddenly, Petunia gasped. “Look! It’s writing again!”

  The book began glowing softly as Eustace traced the words being written.

  Shelves remember what readers forget. Beware the silence—it listens back.

  “Eustace, what’s it mean?”

  He looked up. “It wants us to go to the library tonight.”

  The glow faded.

  Roger wiped his brow. “A wondrous book indeed. It wants to write your story, it seems.”

  “Hold on,” Lucille said. “This seems dangerous.”

  “Please, children. There’s no one else. Someone must take the book,” Paula pleaded. “We're running out of time. We need to find baron William!”

  They all looked around—and then, slowly, all eyes turned to Eustace.

  “I’ll take the book,” he said. “I’ll volunteer.”

  “Shouldn’t we give it to an adult?” Digby asked.

  “They wouldn’t understand,” Paula said gently. “They’d throw you in the clink.”

  Roger added, “Westborough needs you. You must find the portal and uncover the truth. Please… be careful.”

  They thought for a while.

  “We will be,” they said together.

  “It’s going to be an epic adventure,” said Eustace, gripping the book. “Our first—and best.”

  Deep in Eustace’s satchel, the book pulsed faintly.

  You are the scribes. You just don’t know it yet.