Butler Library. Columbia University;12:44 p.m.
The library loomed like a temple of stone and silence. Langdon had always admired its neoclassical grandeur—the names of Plato, Homer, and Aristotle carved across the frieze. Today, those philosophers seemed to watch him with judgmental stillness.
Lenka kept pace beside him, one hand always near her coat's inner holster. They slipped through the side door, avoiding the front guards. Inside, the air was thick with dust and tension.
"The statue of Truth," Langdon whispered, scanning the hall. "It should be just beyond the reading room." They moved quickly. At the far end stood a sculpture nearly hidden by shadows— Veritas, the Roman personification of truth. She stood barefoot, her expression calm, holding a torch high in one hand, and in the other—a mirrored disc etched with Latin:
"Nosce te ipsum."
Know thyself.
Langdon approached, heart pounding. "This was Katherine's favourite metaphor.
She always said the secret to unlocking the mind wasn't hidden from us—it was within us." Beneath the statue, a carved base bore an indentation—circular.
He reached into his satchel and pulled out the brass cipher wheel recovered in Prague. It slid in perfectly. Lenka held her breath.
Langdon turned the wheel to form a phrase they had found on Lucius's notes:
MENTIS PORTA.
The door of the mind.
Click.
The statue shifted backward an inch. Then the floor beneath it split open.
A narrow stairwell descended into utter blackness.
Langdon turned to Lenka.
But before they could enter, the soft sound of slow applause echoed through the hall.
They spun around.
At the far end of the reading room, three figures stood. The central one stepped forward—tall, dressed in gray, his face now visible.
Langdon gasped.
"Dean Asher?" he said.
The head of Columbia's theology department smiled coldly.
"Welcome, Professor Langdon," he said. "You've come just in time for the awakening."