The key; cold, impenetrable, heavy in her hand, weighed her down. Her brow was moist with perspiration, her mind racing, her heart heavy. She knew that whatever lay behind the locked door, held her destiny.
With renewed strength and determination she boldly strode along the achingly humid passageway. Not a single breath of renewed air had graced these chambers for what seemed like decades. And yet, a glace down to the floor would have betrayed her newfound bravery as recent footprints etched into the dust would have revealed the passage to be used frequently.
Framed by wrought iron, twisted and snarled into sickly flowers, the door stood in shadow, drearily bidding visitors not to enter. The key, eager to be free from her hand had not the chance for freedom. The door lay open. Ajar.
It appeared her host was waiting for her…