Thousand-year Door Troubles Novels & Stories

Herman said gravely, "At least four to five hundred years old. It may even be older." That completely shocked both Toby and Esther. "That's impossible! When I was young, I heard Chad's grandfather say it was over a hundred years old." Herman interrupted her, saying, "Golden Phoebe Wood is not something ordinary people will own. Its appearance here indicated that the person who gave the door back then intended to harm this family. However, the door doesn't look severely damaged. We have already inspected it. I will make some preparations. We will return tomorrow to fix it!"

I sighed in relief when my hand touched the cold metal and I brought the key out. I thought I lost it. I inserted it into the lock and twisted it, but it didn't bulge. I changed sides and inserted it again, it still wouldn't yield. It wasn't always this hard to open my door. Did I take the wrong key? I knew my key, I had been living in this house for twenty years and we've never changed our lock. I tried it a few more times, my patience wearing thin with each failed attempt, frustration washed over me and I started kicking the door with my foot, the loud thud echoing through the silence. Why is this happening now, of all time?

Let's see what that does now. The lords pushed and the door finally moved. For the first time in centuries the door moved. But it was not that easy. Something was not only pulling them but also pushing the door from inside making it hard to open it. The lords gathered their strength and gave another push. And the first creak was heard making the lords' eyes light up with excitement. Lord Gula: Hmph. like hell all my ambitions for centuries can be stopped now. I am going to use my full strength.

I was so lost that it was bring back the horrible childhood memories of getting lost in the maze of mirrors at the county festival that came to town every year. We finally came up to these huge double doors. They looked to be made of red oak, with very intricate details carved into them. One door had what looked to be demons and the other door had what looked like angels or goddess on it. Both looking at each other like they were charging at each other, getting ready for a battle.

“This door is a very special atrifact from the Demon Realm. It appears that our little bird here stole it when she left the Demon Realm a thousand years ago.” My brows draw together in confusion. “What is so special about a red door with carvings on it?” While the door was breathtaking to look at and the carvings were crafted so well that they actually look real, I don’t see what could be so special about it. It is just a door afterall. A deep rumble of laughter moves up Levi’s chest, clearly catching wind of my thoughts. Stupid mate bond! My lips purse together in irritation. Levi pulls me in for a bear hug, his deep laughter booming through my body from our close contact.

The transition was subtle but unmistakable. We were in the foundations. We were inside. The heavy door at the tunnel's end had iron bindings green with age and a locking mechanism that had seized solid sometime in the last century. Nyx produced a thin tool from her coat, worked it into the mechanism with the patience of someone who had done this before in worse circumstances, and two minutes later the door opened. Old hinges. We all held breath for the scream of metal. A whisper. Just a whisper of resistance. Then open.

“Stay close.” I already am. We reach the end of the corridor. There is a door. Not a normal door. Not wood. Not iron. Stone. A stone door built into the wall. No handle. No hinges. Just a seam down the middle where it should open. My mouth goes dry. I’ve read about this. Not in the palace history books. Those never tell the truth. I read it in the forbidden records. The ones hidden in the locked archives. A sealed chamber. Built during the first dynasty.

' We don't even live forever, so let's do the things we love, till we are alive. "Now, let's move ahead." Miranda speaks going out of the room. I place my purse on the table attached to the bed and follow her. . "And here, the last thing you need to see." I see an ancient-like door in front of me. It's all black and towering. So many huge marks are on it. Notches of some sharp thing, sword maybe. A massive lock is lept on it with a huge iron chain sealing it. Well, It took us almost two hours to see each and every corner of this place.

That much was clear from the stone rings, the dried moonroot vines hanging from the corners, and the central pit that led down into the underchambers, where Matrons once came to bury their relics. This wasn’t in any of the Flameborn files we’d found. It wasn’t mentioned in any Crescent archives. But my wolf had led us here. She didn’t explain. She just pulled, hard and steady, like a compass refusing to be ignored. We reached a stone door. Smooth. Immaculate. Untouched by dust. Which made no sense. “This place hasn’t been opened in at least a century,” Caleb said. “So why does this door look... recent?” I reached out.

"Ilsevet said there were four doors total. One sealed at the quarry, which I closed. One at the Ashveil cliffs, still holding for now. That leaves this one and one more." "Which means whatever came out of the third door forty years ago that Ilsevet mentioned," Kieran said grimly, working through it aloud beside me, "may have already found this location on its own, without needing Vane's help at all." I moved toward the cellar stairs despite every instinct screaming at me to stay well away from whatever waited below, because staying away had never once been an option available to people carrying this particular blood, not for me, not for the weaver who had lived here, not for anyone Ilsevet's