It was a night like no other when the Expeditionary Society of Unnecessary Ventures settled upon the Tomb of Glimmers. Lanterns flickered in uncertainty as the members, a mishmash of the well-meaning and the incompetent, stood before the ancient archway. Willard, the Society's unofficial leader, adjusted his fedora in a manner only he believed to be heroic.
"We must decipher this riddle to gain entrance!" Willard declared, his voice echoing through the corridor. The riddle was etched in stones that appeared to wiggle slightly, almost like they were laughing at the group. "What has keys but can't open locks?" read the inscription.
Silence fell, heavy and awkward as only silence can be in the face of riddles. It was Gerald, the resident jester with an almost absurd ability to insult logic, who finally spoke. "A piano! Clearly…" he paused, the weight of the universe, or perhaps just lunch, on his shoulders. "No, wait. A door has… uh…."
It was at this moment that Carl, the least expected and most clumsily competent member, sneezed. "A choo-charp!" he exclaimed, and the stone door swung open, revealing a main corridor lined with glowing orbs. The group’s collective sigh might have startled even the bravest of spectral guardians.
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