Queen Grumble Doors Novels & Stories

With grey marble pathing the floors with a glossy shimmer… this was more tolerable since it felt like the light from the windows lightened them up. Prince Kavan shifted the weight of his father on his shoulders so that he was able to twist the old grey door handle to open their room. It squeaked… all the ironmongery and mechanisms in this grand manor seemed to squeak and need oiled – he noted mentally at this.

If the dogs suddenly comes to life, who knows what would become of him. “It is safe here guys,” Don said when the dogs remained inanimate. It seems that the dogs are here only for ornamental purpose. Van prods and touches them. Nothing happens. “Excuse me,” Don said as he stands before the heavy wooden door. No reply came from the owner. “We should use the knocker,” Alice suggested. The metal door knocker is carved after a bull with oversized nose ring. Cautiously she touches the knocker in case it carries a hidden curse. Again nothing happens.

Chloe turned to see Grace approaching her, her face filled with anger and her eyes glinting with contempt. "Isn't this an empty room? Why can't I touch it?" Chloe replied coldly. This old woman always looked down on her, and she wasn't in the mood to be nice. "Hmph!" Grace snorted. "That room is for us..." Her voice cut off abruptly, then she impatiently shouted, "In any case, that room isn't for someone like you! You should go downstairs; you can't enter any other rooms on the third floor!" As she spoke, Grace shook a large bunch of keys, locking all the doors.

I noticed the bumpy gold of the back entrance did not have a knob, instead, a strange mechanism of gears hung on the mouth of the door before the man threw the large frame open with a noisy creak, his gray eyes fastening on me once more as he turned to face me. ”Come on, in here.”

Linda remarked. "I don't blame him, he's probably had it rough." Brant shrugged. Linda knocked again. "What again!" Mr Walborn scolded her as he angrily popped his head through the half opened the door. The door was barely even serving its purpose as a door. Part of it had been consumed by wood louse, folding and faulting had had its fair share on the door. The doorknob wasn't something to reckon about. Rust had eaten a greater part of it.

Ember laughed lightly and Caleb offered his arm with a bow again and they walked down to the ballroom. As they got closer they could hear the chatter and murmurs coming from the crowd. The main doors were closed most of the guests would have arrived through the glass doors from outside or the smaller entrance on the other side. These doors were meant to make a statement. They were made from wood and carved with intricate details of the history of wolves. The moon goddess across the top with her arms spread wide with the first pack in various stages of the shift. It was beautiful and one of Ember’s favourite things in the castle. She always saw something new every time she gazed on these door

The only sounds were their footsteps and the faint chirping of birds somewhere far away. In front of them stood a large wooden door. It used to be a rich mahogany color, but now it looked old and gray. The detailed carvings were almost hidden under dirt. A heavy brass knocker shaped like a gargoyle hung in the center, still and eerie, as if it was watching them. Cheska reached out, her hand shaking a little, and pushed the door. It wasn’t locked. The door opened slowly with a long, creaking sound. Inside was a huge entrance hall, almost completely dark. A cold, stale air rushed out and hit them. It smelled like dust and something old… mixed with a strange scent, like dried flowers and someth

Cracks made their way up the wall in scattered rivlets, making it look old and unkept. The large wrought iron gate creaked loudly as the wind slightly pushed it back and forth. Almost like a loud mournful screech that bounced off the walls and ripped through the air. You could even say it sounded like a helpless abandoned and wounded animal every time it slightly shifted. The door it self was so rusted, it was more orange in color, than it was black. The stone where the hinges where installed, where cracked and it made the door sit at an awkward angle. This was exactly how I imagined a place like Stratheom to look. Like a disregarded prison.

The door’s surface was engraved with intricate patterns, including the triangular symbols they had seen on the machine and in Haverstone’s journals. “This is it,” Emma said, her voice filled with quiet awe. She reached out, brushing her fingers against the cold iron. The patterns seemed to pulse faintly, responding to her touch. Dr. Crane examined the door closely, his sharp eyes scanning the symbols. “There’s a mechanism here,” he said, pointing to a series of small notches along the edge. “We’ll need the keys.”

Behind them walked Beta Marcus and Queen Aurelia, keeping a respectful distance while maintaining a protective perimeter. They reached the lowest level of the mountain, far below the plasma lake of the Crucible. Before them stood a pair of colossal doors carved from a single slab of white starry granite and dark obsidian wood. The doors were fifty feet high, decorated with detailed relief sculptures of a regal black wolf with silver eyes, standing side by side with a golden phoenix rising from sunbeams. At the center of the doors, where the two carved figures met, was a dual keyhole shaped like two interlocking crescents—one silver, one gold.