She stood before the massive wooden door with its ancient carvings, the air thick with secrets and old memories. The keyhole glinted like a tiny eye in the darkness, and she felt a draw, a pull of fearsome intuition that whispered places unknown. What stories had these walls heard? What fates had been sealed beyond this threshold?
As she leaned closer, flashes of what might have been flicked through her mind—shadowy figures dancing on the peripheries of her vision, voices that seemed to murmur just beyond her hearing. They weren't words, not exactly, but rather a sensation of sound, a vibration of thought and emotion that resonated with the very marrow of her being. It was both inviting and foreboding.
Then it struck her like an electric shock—the realization that the door was parting, inviting her to cross, should she dare. But intuition slowed her. There was a story here, and it was unwritten, waiting for a pen or a whisper or some unseen force far greater than she could understand.
Peer deeper through the keyhole.