The night was as cool as a pumpkin stalk, and the wind dried the leaves of the maple trees along Pumpkin Alley until they sounded like a rustling choir. Lanterns twinkled in the windows of the houses, and witches on broomsticks of yarn, vampires with rubber fangs and pirates with plastic hooks flitted along the pavements. The whole of Brzeziny smelled of hot cocoa and roasted pumpkin seeds. Zosia wore a silver cape with stars on her shoulders and a notebook with a pencil in her pocket - she liked to write down anything unusual. Maks, a head taller, was dressed as a knight with cardboard armour covered in foil. He attached a glowing bat to his helmet, which periodically fell on his nose. Their younger cousin, Lena, was a black cat with ears on her headband and a moustache drawn with a marker. Together they held a paper map with the houses marked where the best fudge was given out. Even before they had filled their bags with sweets, Maks showed the hill behind the town with his finger. There, amidst the black branches, grew the tower of the old library - the one with the stained glass windows and the clock that had long stood. - 'They say it strikes thirteen on Halloween,' whispered Lena with a glint in her eye. - 'Clocks don't strike thirteen,' snorted Maks, although he clenched his fingers tighter on the handle of the cardboard sword. - What if it's not an ordinary clock? - Zosia smiled uncertainly. - We were going to walk this way anyway. Look, there's a light on the tower. Only now did they notice the greenish glow on the topmost window, as if someone had covered the lamp with bottle glass. At that moment a real cat jumped out from behind the fence - black, with a white patch under its chin, as if it had a miniature fly. He sat down on the wall and blinked his yellow eyes at them, then jumped down and headed towards the library. - He's inviting us in! - squealed Lena, and her felt tail swayed vigorously. - After all, there's a sign saying renovation. - Zosia pointed to the "No Trespassing" sign by the gate, but just then the gate creaked and swung open by itself, as if someone had pulled an invisible handle. The friends exchanged glances. After all, it was only a library, and they were supposed to look out of the threshold and turn back. So they decided. The cat led them through an overgrown courtyard where reflections of stained glass swayed in the puddles: leaves, stars and pumpkins in intense colours. On the door hung a brass knocker in the shape of an owl. When Zosia touched its feathers, the metal was as warm as a thermos of tea. - Strange - she muttered. - After all, there's no one here. The cat meowed briefly and hopped onto the windowsill. The owl-cat moved without anyone's help and the door sprang open a centimetre, leaving a narrow gap. From inside came the smell of dust, leather and winter. - 'We're just peeking,' Zosia determined, and slipped inside, followed by Maks and Lena. The hallway was as tall as the gymnasium at their school. Shelves piled up on the walls with bulky volumes. The stained-glass windows in the stairwell cast colourful spots on the floor. Somewhere further on, in the shadows between the bookcases, something clinked quietly, as if an old chandelier had been moved. Leaf-shaped bookmarks lay on a stand near the entrance, and someone had written in wavy writing in chalk on the room schedule board: "Attention: night reading cancelled due to draughts". - Draughts? - repeated Maks - Draughts is what, he doesn't like reading? Zosia pressed her finger to her lips. When she took a step, a paper squeaked under her shoe. She picked it up - it was a page torn out of a very old book, with greyened edges. There were rhymes written in the middle with different ink, fresher ink: "When the pumpkin's flame tinkles and the wind plays with the leaves, Look for the owl's window, which no longer sleeps. Where the thirteenth breath hugs the dust, Under a star of metal you will find the key." - A star made of metal... - Lena raised her eyes. - Sophie, your bookmark! Zosia pulled her favourite star-shaped bookmark out of her pocket - a thin, silver one from her grandmother. The metal edge was cold and smooth, as if waiting for just this moment. The cat jumped onto the stairs and looked up, then quickly skipped up the steps without looking to see if they were following. They climbed after him, passing rows of windows with coloured glass. On the second floor, the corridor narrowed and ended in a heavy door with an owl carved in the middle. Its eyes glowed greenish, like glass in a lantern. - 'That's the owl's window, only it's... closed,' Maks stated, leaning his palms against the wood. Zosia looked at the sculpture's wings and noticed a small star-shaped incision, barely visible in the semi-darkness. She slipped her bookmark into it. Something inside clicked and the door breathed, as if the tension had been lifted from it, and swung open just enough for them to slip inside. Beyond the door stretched a reading room with a table under the clock tower itself. Dust swirled from the ceiling where the colours of the stained glass windows reflected, and a large mechanism with brass wheels hung on the wall. The hands stood between twelve and one, as if someone couldn't decide what to do next. In the middle of the table stood a box of dark wood, decorated with book-shaped engraving. Next to it lay a score, darkened at the edges. A cat jumped onto the tabletop and tapped the lid with its paw. - 'Oh no, we're not going to open anything,' Maks began, but Lena was already pointing to the small, star-shaped hole next to the lock. - It fits the bookmark - she said, almost silently. Zosia hesitated for a split second. This was no ordinary evening. This was no ordinary library. And yet her hand found the silver star all by itself. She slid it into the notch. The box shuddered, as if a shudder ran through it, and it unsealed with a quiet snort. Inside rested a tiny music box. Its key was also shaped like a star. - If I wind it up, it's really only once - Zosia said in a half whisper. - And we'll be right back. - 'Sure,' nodded Maks, although his eyes were glowing with curiosity almost as bright as stained glass. Zosia turned the key. A melody flowed from the music box - gentle, winding like a path in the forest. On the first notes the dust swirled faster and the hands of the big clock twitched. On the second notes, something like a breath ran through the reading room, moving the ribbons of the bookmarks and quietly rustling the pages of the books. On the third notes, a sound rang out from the tower - not quite a bell, rather the old-fashioned sound of springs, as if someone was breathing after a long silence. - Can you hear it? - Lena slid her hand into Zosia's palm. - He... he seems to be waking up. The clock rattled the mechanism. The seconds hand moved, once, twice, a third time. The sound spread over the beams, went goosebumps through them, and came back echoing from the depths of the bookcases. Tiny dust sprinkled from the ceiling. At the same moment, the cat meowed in a draughty manner and its white fly shone with a green glow. - OK, that's it - Maks took half a step backwards. - We've seen it. Time to go home. But something on the table caught their eye. There lay a book they had not noticed before - bound in leather the colour of a ripe pumpkin, with embossing in the shape of leaves and stars. It had no title on the spine. When Zosia brought her hand closer, the cover was warmer than it should have been. The book itself opened in the middle, as if it had been blown open, and the darkened pen lying next to it rose by a hair. There were only rubrics on the pages, evenly-spaced lines like in an old diary. Suddenly the ink, like a drop of rain, appeared in the top corner, got bold and began to flow, laying out the letters: "Lantern Night Guest List". The first name wrote itself out: 'Zosia'. Then: "Maks". Then: "Lena". - 'Oi,' groaned Maks, 'who's writing this? - She - Lena pointed to the pen, which was now trembling, as if from an invisible hand. The clock chimed deeper, as if from within it had finally yawned after a hundred years. It struck once, a second, a third... The sound was full, but different from usual - each tone sounded like a footstep on the stairs. At the seventh strike, the light in the stained-glass windows turned greener. By the twelfth, it became so quiet in the reading room that they could hear their own breaths. - 'It's over,' whispered Zosia. - It was twelve. Now. And then, belatedly, as if someone had only now made up their mind, another soft sound rang out in the tower. Thirteen. The hands leapt forward like panicked fish. On the wall, beneath the mechanism, a narrow panel spread out that had not been there before. From a dark crevice arose an air as cold as ice from a freezer and as sweet as honey from a lime tree. A shadow ran across the floor - very narrow, very long. The cat arched its back and wagged its tail, but did not run away. Instead, he turned his head towards the gaping panel and blinked at the children, as if to say: "Ready?". Something like a tiny spark flashed on the threshold of the crack, then a second, a third, and a whisper came from deep within - neither good nor bad, just unusually old: - Is that you? Zosia, Maks and Lena froze in place. The panel slid further apart, quietly like a page being turned. Something inside moved, squeaked like an old pen on paper, and then....