I had never found my school an interesting place before. The long corridors smelling of chalk, the blackboards with the remnants of old equations and the lockers that clattered every time they were opened - it all just seemed like a backdrop to the daily struggle with midterms and oral answers. But that day, the first Monday after the winter holidays, something changed. It all started with a new history teacher. Mr Borkowski was completely different from the rest of the teachers. Instead of a suit, he wore a dark turtleneck, and on his nose he had round glasses whose lenses shimmered strangely under the light. His voice was quiet, but even the loudest of the class fell silent when he started telling stories about the old days. No one knew where he came from because none of the teachers wanted to talk about him. That day, after lessons, I stayed at school together with Maja and Michael - my best friends. Maja was a master at puzzles and Michal... well, he could dismantle and assemble almost any object found on the school grounds. Our attention was drawn to something strange at the end of the oldest wing of the school - a door with a "Warehouse" sign, which we had never paid attention to before. This time they were slightly ajar. - 'I think it should be locked,' whispered Maja, looking around nervously. - 'It's always locked. Michal, as Michal does, was already pulling a torch out of his backpack. - 'Maybe that's where they keep spare benches or old maps,' he muttered. Unsure how, but before we had time to think, we went inside. It was dark and smelled of dust, but in the light of the torch we saw a gap between the bookcases. It seemed that there should just be a wall behind them, but we noticed that one of the drywall panels was gently standing out. I pushed it open and behind it appeared a narrow, winding staircase leading upwards. Instead of a typical storeroom, we ended up with what looked like an entrance to the roof. However, this was no ordinary exit - the door was metal and heavy, with strange engraved patterns on its surface. I hesitated, but curiosity was stronger. We opened the door and stood on the flat roof of the school. In front of us, right in the middle, stood Mr Borkowski with a large leather map spread out. His face was turned towards the setting sun and he looked as if he was listening for something. Before we had time to retreat to the stairs, Mr Borkowski turned slowly towards us. His eyes, reflecting the last rays of light, looked completely different from those of a normal lesson. He raised his hand, signalling us to come closer. After a moment of silence, he said in a puzzled tone: - I knew you would be the first to find your way here. Do you have the courage to take the next step? It became quiet - so quiet that all we could hear was the sound of the wind over the school field. We stood on the threshold of something we didn't understand, but we knew that our school life would never be the same again....