Witch Door Novels & Stories

Less confining and tolerable. Nico and Agatha have their individual rooms upstairs. I guess they have wooden beds too. I wonder how they can call that place a sanctuary, and it’s not even safe from wild animals. The cottage doesn't have a door, just a doorway with a few strands of silvery wind chimes to let them know someone has come inside. The windows are made of wood attached to the top of the window frame, but the rest are swinging freely. They pull up the flap every morning, supported by a dried tree trunk to keep it open, and pull it back down at night.

A wedding. These weren't monsters. They were people. That somehow made everything worse. "Most of the club's out on a run," Dax explained, leading me past the main room toward a hallway. "Dutch is in Pittsburgh on business. I wanted you to see this without an audience. He stopped in front of a heavy oak door at the end of the hall. He keyed a code into a digital lock a high-tech security measure that felt out of place in such a rustic building and pushed the door open.

He was quite pleased with his unexpected accomplishment. "Shall we go?" Dianne instructed Nicolas that they should get inside the house before the cold afternoon wind started to penetrate their bodies. The two climbed the porch steps and approached a large door located in the center of the building. The door was brown and made of Mahogany wood, while the floor, clearly visible from the outside, was made of granite. Dianne approached the smart lock on the door and pressed the buttons on the touch screen with the pin number she had memorized from the message Keenan had sent her this morning.

~Katia~ The heavy mahogany double doors of my penthouse didn't just open; they were vaporized. The wood fractured with a deafening, explosive crash that shook the entire living room, the brass lock ripping out of the frame and clattering across the hardwood floor. Jude’s head snapped toward the sound. Julian Windsor stood in the doorway.

“My grandfather used it during blackouts. It should be behind the reserve rack. Help me.” She moved beside him. Together, they dragged the rolling wine rack from its groove. Glass bottles clinked. One fell, shattered. They flinched but the sound above didn’t change. “Here,” Dorian said. “Feel this.” Her fingers found a recessed metal handle beneath a wooden panel. Cold. Rusted. She pulled. Nothing. He braced beside her. “On three.” They yanked. The hatch gave with a violent groan. Cold air rushed up.

The eight youths started to stand behind Azareel. The wind blew hard against everything that got in his way. Along with the wind, red particles started flying and coalesced into a door. The door is like a glass door that is easily broken, looking from the outside, you will see the view of the road behind it, like a glass door in general. Azareel stepped forward after the wind stopped blowing, as did the rest of his friends. Looking back with an unsure gaze, made Eruza come over to him.

It felt frail, and when I turned it, the knob fell off and bounced on the ground, while the door remained locked. Great! I groaned, shrugging my hand in an attempt to clean the dirt and dust from the sleeve. I rounded the house, searching for another way to get in, but the windows didn’t seem too promising with the shards of glass hanging around the edges like death traps. The only way in was the door without a handle now. Perhaps the witch used magic to make the house appear decayed and empty. So chances were that I was at the right place, I just needed to find a way in.

She repeated again, this time, trying to pull apart the cell's door. "Don't do that." Sarah butted in, drawing Neon away from the door. "My sister is behind that door!" Neon said, refusing to stay aside. "If you force the door open, you'll be sprayed with wolfsbane," Sarah revealed, pointing to the small pores in the cell gate. "There's an unwritten rule – dungeon doors are often laced with wolfsbane just above them. This ensures that when a werewolf attempts to escape by tampering with the door, they get weakened and can be easily recaptured."

Only the part above the chest and hands remained in the position of pressing against the door. She looked like a melting snowman. As the woman let out a long howl, the bronze door, which had originally appeared, suddenly began to tremble. At the same time, a buzzing sound could be heard. The next moment, under everyone's gaze, a gap slowly opened. Although it was just a gap, for this bronze door, which was seven or eight floors high, this gap was enough for four or five people to walk in side by side. Journey Doney waved at the crowd and motioned for them to walk ahead.

she said, her voice calm, motioning towards the closed wooden door. “You sure?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at her. She didn’t respond, simply stepping aside, her glowing presence radiating quiet authority. As I brushed past her, she added softly, “You don’t need an invitation.” That was all I needed. With a powerful kick, I sent the door crashing open, splinters flying as it slammed against the wall. My eyes immediately locked on him—the dwarf witch. He was seated on a large brown fabric, a young woman beside him. Two candles flanked her on either side, their faint light casting flickering shadows across the room.